History Never Repeats
by PodSara
Summary: Tempest Leonhart is burdened with a legacy she's not sure she can live up to. When history begins to repeat itself and a mysterious secret about her past is revealed, she must fight for the one thing she never knew she'd lost. ***REVISED***
1. Prologue

_**HISTORY NEVER REPEATS**_

_A FFVIII Second Generation Tale_

_" The thirteenth Apostle is knocking at my door,_ _telling me that I can't play with you no more._ _I guess the wages of sin couldn't buy my meals._ _I'm screaming out your name baby, how does that feel..."_

The Tea Party, _Sun Going Down_

* * *

_**Prologue**_

_The girl stood poised and ready for battle, the handle of her gunblade clenched tightly in her gloved hand. The look of fierce determination on her face showed she meant business, that she was strong, and in the feeble light, she appeared almost masculine, in spite of her beautiful face. _

_She was a warrior, through and through, the child of warriors of the highest caliber. Try as she might, she couldn't escape the history behind her name, or the legacy that her parents had left behind. Not that she'd ever known them, but she knew enough to know what kind of burden she had to carry on her slight shoulders. She knew that everyone expected her to fill their shoes, and perhaps even surpass their abilities. _

_As she faced her adversary, she had grave doubts about what was to become of her._ _Would she live up to everyone's expectations? Would she fail them? _

_All she knew as she readied herself for the fight ahead of her that she could not afford to lose. There was too much at stake. _

_There was only one who had ever bested her in training, and he stood before her now with a self assured gleam in his eyes as he raised his blade in salute. The girl returned his gesture with a cold stare and wiped her free hand against her fitted leather low riders, then ran her gloved hand through the sweat tangled black locks upon her head. She was ready for him, no matter how hard he fought, this time she would win._ _She had to win. She had to save face, to let him know the way it was going to be from now on. _

_There shouldn't have been any animosity in her heart as she moved forward to strike, aggressively pursuing him rather than remaining on defense as was her tendency. A future SeeD wasn't supposed to take it personal. But everything about this was personal. She was angry, resentful and hurt, and she wasn't afraid to let her anger ride. If she couldn't tell him how she felt, then she would show him._

_She drew upon her silent resentment and delivered a series of sharp blows, of which he parried with ease, then he returned fire upon her. It wasn't hard to dodge the first, but the second slice cut into her arm as she tried to spin away from his attack. Enraged, she let loose a perfectly executed spiraling slice that caught him under the chin as her blade swung towards the sky. The sight of his blood brought her great satisfaction, even if her own flowed as freely as his._

_He touched his chin and stared at the blood on his fingertips in surprise. He hadn't expected her to wound him. _

_"Don't do this," he warned. _

_Instead of a reply, she advanced again, using all her strength to swing the blade around, slicing at him again. He stepped out of the way in time to avoid being struck and she stumbled when her blade failed to hit it's target. _

_"Had enough?" he asked, nodding to her wound._

_"Never."_

_"Don't be stupid. You know you won't beat me."_

_"What are you afraid of, then?" she asked and moved to strike again._

_Just as she stepped into his path, he raised his own blade and slashed downwards. The tip of the gunblade met her forehead with as much force as a hammer might have, and had no less of an impact on her. Her vision blurred and she was sent to her knees, momentarily stunned and blinded by the force of the blow._

_A white hot rage swelled up inside her and she screamed in a voice she did not recognize as her own as she advanced upon him. Sparks flew from the tip of her blade as it scraped the rock beneath her feet and she let fly a powerful upward stroke. She heard her own howl of anger mingle with his groan of pain as she shut her eyes. _

_She loved him. She hated him. He had hurt her. She had hurt him back. This was how it was to be from now on. _

_The blade slipped from her hand as her scream died away, and she felt herself falling . . . . ._

_Great Hyne, what had she done? What had he done?_

_For a few precious moments, she knew only the darkness of unconsciousness, but that didn't last long. Rather than get to her feet and finish what she'd started, she merely lay against the cold, hard rock, begging Hyne to take back everything that had happened between them. She'd been a fool, searching for something he could never have given her, no matter what she'd convinced herself. He didn't care, and he never had. She was just another conquest. A notch on his bedpost. Nothing more._

_As she lay bleeding upon the rocks, with her eyes closed, she heard the sound of his boots walking away, as if leaving her for dead. In the silence that followed, she nearly crumbled. But she couldn't cry. She wouldn't let the tears leave the corners of her eyes. Tears showed weakness, and she was determined not to be weak._

_Why had she had opened up to him? Now, he knew her weakness, and he knew exactly how to hurt her, and in ways that were not physical. _

_She couldn't allow that to happen, no matter what. No one would ever be able to hurt her again._

_No one._

* * *

Notes: Another story where the original post format got eaten. I've fixed the formatting issues and revised this passage somewhat. I'd love to overhaul this story a bit...I think I mentioned how much I liked this one, and I count it among my (own) favorites. What is probably going to happen is that I'll revise it chapter by chapter, adding new content along the way, and then begin posting new chapters. Nothing about the story will change, but there may be a new passage here or there, just for fun, and just because this is the one I can't let go. Even if it is unpopular.

Anyway, if you're new to this story or a previous reader, I'd love to hear from you. Review me, send me a message, whatever. I'm open to suggestions, comments, praise, flames, gripes and whatnot.


	2. The Same, But Different

**HISTORY NEVER REPEATS  
**_A FFVIII Second Generation Fan Fiction_

* * *

**CHAPTER ONE**

_~For Charlie, aka The Flaming Moe  
_  
_"You say I've always played the fool,  
I can't go on if that's the rule.  
Better to jump than hesitate,  
I need a change and I can't wait."_  
~History Never repeats, Neil and Tim Finn

* * *

Tempest Leonhart wasn't sure where she was, and she didn't really care. Her entire body ached and felt leaden, and try as she might, she couldn't seem to lift her head from the pillow. She fought it for a moment, then resigned herself to her position and relaxed against the cot. Aches aside, she was at least comfortable.

When she opened her eyes to identify her location, her vision was blurred and the light stung her eyes. She blinked a few times to clear her vision and turned her head slightly to see the room around her.

Suddenly, her view was blocked by a single face, a face so familiar, it was as if someone had placed a mirror in front of her and she was looking at her own reflection. Except, the face looking back at her most certainly _wasn't_ her own. It was too open, too gentle, and the eyes were far too sincere and innocent to belong to her.

Tempest blinked a couple of times, trying to understand what it was she was seeing. Her own face, on someone else. Was that possible?

"Tempest," the girl said, flashing a warm smile.

The girl's hand came to rest on Tempest's forehead and smoothed back her hair, gentle and familiar. In spite of herself, Tempest didn't protest. It felt nice to be offered that particular comfort, when it had seldom been offered before.

Tempest struggled to sit up, but it was futile. For whatever reason, she wasn't getting out of this bed. Maybe this was just a dream. It certainly had the surreal quality of a dream, but it also felt quite real. For a moment, she wondered if she'd been critically injured and was hallucinating.

"Who are you," Tempest croaked.

"Don't you recognize me?"

Tempest recognized her, all right, but she wasn't sure exactly _who_ it was she was looking at. A dream version of herself, perhaps. Sure, it looked like her face, but _not_ her face, exactly. And those clothes! Tempest wouldn't have been caught dead wearing a cardigan _or_ a wool skirt. Not in a thousand years.

For a split second, Tempest thought maybe she was having a dream about her mother, but then remembered that everyone said she was the spitting image of her father, Squall. Tempest had seen pictures and had compared her own features to her parents, and there was no denying that she took after her father in looks. No, her mother's eyes had been dark brown, not blue. The girl looking back at her had the same gas flame blue eyes, and her hair was the exact same shade as Tempest's own.

So who the hell _was_ she, and what was she doing here?

_Obviously_, Tempest thought to herself, _I'm dreaming. This is too weird to be real._

"I'm sorry," the girl said sadly as she brushed a lock of hair from Tempest's forehead. "I shouldn't have come. I just-heard you'd been wounded, and I had to see you. I've missed you, and I had hoped you would remember me, but it's been a long time. Too long, I guess."

The girl leaned over and placed a kiss on Tempest's cheek and stood.

"I shouldn't have come," she said sadly.

With that, the girl disappeared and Tempest slipped back into sleep, but not before wondering if maybe she was actually dead.

She dreamed of her parents, as she often did. More often than she would have liked, for most of these dreams started off nice and ended with her waking up out of a dead sleep because, as in real life, something terrible had happened to them in her dreams.

Tempest couldn't remember her parents, exactly. She knew what they looked like from the small photo collection Edea had given her when she was a girl, but she couldn't remember a time in her life when she'd _known _them. She didn't have any memories of them at all. They'd died in a car accident on the way back from Balamb one night when she was very young. No one knew how the crash had happened, and Tempest supposed it didn't matter. What mattered was that they were gone, leaving Tempest orphaned and in the care of Cid and Edea Kramer. If not for them, who knows what would have happened to her?

Laguna Loire, Tempest's grandfather was still alive, but he had his own children, who were only two years older than Tempest, to raise. Tempest had always resented the fact that Laguna had never been there for his son, and was now repeating the same mistake with his only grand child. She'd never understood why he hadn't taken her in after the accident, and deep down, was hurt by his lack of interest. It wasn't as if she had any other living relatives who could care for her.

In dreams, her parents were always her age, the way they were in the photos she had of them, and she couldn't imagine them any other way. They hadn't been much older when they died than Tempest was now, a young couple with a young daughter and a bright future ahead of them. How different things might have been if they'd lived.

In her waking life, she tried not to think about them at all. It was just easier that way.

"Open your eyes, Tempest," a soft feminine voice said, rousing her from her dream of being in her mother's arms.

"Mommy," Tempest heard herself mutter.

She tried to roll over and ignore whomever was interrupting such a nice dream, but she found she couldn't move. Try as she might to hang on to the dream, it slipped away, just as it always did.

"Tempest," the voice said again, sounding amused this time, "Wake up. Quenton is on his way down to get you. There _is _an exam today, you know."

Tempest opened her eyes to the stinging brightness that brought unwanted tears to her blue eyes and she lifted her hand to shield them from the light.

"Hyne," she muttered as she noticed for the first time the throbbing pain in her forehead. "Can you turn off the lights?"

Her visitor chuckled. "No can do. The sunshine comes with the room. Free of charge."

Tempest groaned and covered her face with the sheet. She wished she could just go back to sleep.

"Come on, Tempest," the woman said again. "Get up. Let me look you over."

Tempest let out a heavy sigh and sat up, letting her eyes adjust to the light before opening them fully.

So. She was in the infirmary. It was then she remembered what had transpired between herself and Syrus the night before in the training center. She should have known better than to challenge him with revenge on her mind. A SeeD was never supposed to take it personal and she had, to her own detriment. And she didn't know what her _intent_ had been when she'd taken him on. Had she wanted to show him that she wouldn't let him get to her? To teach him a lesson? Kill him perhaps? She wasn't sure what her motivation had been, and that scared her.

"Tempest," Dr. Crowley, the resident physician and daughter of Dr. Kadowaki, asked, looking concerned.

"What?"

"You looked like you were way out in space there for a second," the doctor said, giving Tempest a scrutinizing glance. "I think I'm going to call Quenton back and tell him I'm keeping you here overnight for observation. Don't want you keeling over on us, now do we?"

"No, thanks. I'm all right. Really. I just have some things on my mind," Tempest said. It wasn't exactly a lie. "The exam, you know."

At that moment, the door opened and Quenton Trepe stepped into the room. Inwardly, Tempest groaned. She braced herself for the inevitable lecture she was sure to receive about using caution while training.

Instead, Quenton rushed to her side with a look of deep concern lining his pretty-boy features.

"Are you all right," he asked.

"I'll live."

Tempest tried to mask the wave of dizziness that overtook her as she got to her feet, but Quenton saw her discomfort and grabbed her by the arm. Further annoyed by his mother hen attitude, Tempest yanked her arm away from him and strode confidently to the door and fought back a galaxy of stars that tried to cloud her vision. There was no way she was going to let Quenton feel the need to baby her. She wasn't a child. She could take care of herself.

It had always been that way. Quenton had always felt the need to protect her from imagined dangers like a mother that tried to protect her child from the evils of the world. And he wasn't the only one guilty of doing it. Everyone felt it necessary to protect and pity Tempest because her parents were dead. What they didn't understand was that Tempest was fine without them. She missed them, but she hadn't known them either, and she'd long ago learned to deal with it. Being alone had made her tough, strong and fiercely independent. She didn't need anyone to take care of her, and she was sick of being coddled like some three year old.

"Tempest, maybe you should-" Quenton began as he followed her out of the infirmary and out into the corridor.

"Maybe I should what, stay here in the infirmary?" Tempest asked as she tried to mask the breathlessness she felt. "Not on your life Instructor. I'm not going to miss the exam just because I have a bump on my head."

"It's not just a bump, Tempest. In case you haven't noticed, you have two and a half inch gash right between your eyes. Twelve stitches. Not to mention the eight in your arm," Quenton countered as he tried to steer her toward the dorm. "I'm going to recommend you don't take the exam today."

Tempest was furious that he'd even suggest such a thing. Was this just another way of trying to shelter her? He couldn't possibly think she'd bail out. Her injuries weren't that bad.

"You wouldn't dare," she said in a low voice. "I'm taking that exam today, whether you think I should or not. I've worked too hard to get here and I'll be damned if I let a couple of cuts stop me, and I'm not going to let you stop me either."

"Tempest-" Quenton began, sounding defeated.

"I'm taking that exam, Instructor."

"Fine," Quenton conceded. "But don't blame me if you don't pass."

Satisfied, Tempest followed him to class in silence, trying her best not to be annoyed by the pleading looks Quenton was sending her direction. They arrived at the classroom in a matter of minutes and Tempest suddenly became aware of the painful throbbing between her eyes. She shook it off and strode to the back of the room with affected confidence and took her seat.

Across the aisle, Syrus glanced at her, but she ignored him.

Let him suffer.

* * *

Syrus Almasy's head was killing him, and he was trying in vain not to let it show. He hadn't wanted to get into a knock down fight with Tempest, but she'd asked for it, and now it seemed they were both paying the price. He knew the moment she stepped into the classroom that she was as bad off as he was. Her face was pale, her eyes puffy and she sported an ugly, stitched up gash between her eyes to match the one she'd given him.

What was it with the Almasy-Leonhart rivalry? Were they all destined to scar one another like this for generations to come? It seemed so, since Syrus now had his own scar, to match not only Tempest's but his father's too.

Syrus hadn't meant to hurt her. He loved her, for hyne's sake. He needed her in more ways than one. She was his mirror, his soul mate, his other half. He'd known that the very first time he'd laid eyes on her, back when they were both ten years old. That day, in the training center, he'd taken a cheap shot at her and knocked her to the ground because she was a girl trying to include herself in a boys-only club. Girls weren't strong enough to handle a gunblade, at least, that's what he'd thought.

When he'd knocked her down, he'd expected her to start bawling like all the girls did when they got hurt, but not Tempest. Instead, she'd gotten up and launched herself at him, threw him to the ground and punched him right in the mouth. Twice.

He'd known right then that their fates were entwined. Not because she was a Leonhart and he was an Almasy. Not because she'd beaten him up. It was because he'd instantly saw her as his equal and he'd known right then that she was the only one who would ever match him in skill. No other girl had ever dared come back at him like that, but she had and without hesitation or remorse, and Hyne, almighty, it had hurt.

It had taken him almost a year to get her to talk to him, and then only in training. Outside of class, she spoke to no one but her instructors and the Kramers, who seemed very protective and very interested in her progress. More interested than they were in any other student, which Syrus had always found curious.

But the more she ignored him, the more he wanted to count her among his friends. Eventually, they did become cautious friends and friendly rivals in training. Every fight between them had been a challenge, and never had she conceded to him, even when she lost. Syrus had found this even more appealing than her gorgeous face, and when he finally did fall, he fell hard.

Finally, about a year and a half ago, Syrus had worked up the courage to ask her out, and they'd been together ever since. She was no conquest, she was the better part of himself.

Well, she _had_ been until he'd screwed everything up. Now she wouldn't even look at him. She wanted nothing to do with him. Except, maybe to hack him to pieces in the training center, which she'd come close to actually doing. He wished she'd just talk to him, let him explain.

From the corner of his eye, he watched Tempest take a seat and pointedly ignore him. So typical. Hyne, how he missed the days when she'd glance over and flash one of her rare smiles or roll her eyes at something Trepe had said. He missed sending her instant messages on the computer and he missed their inside jokes and the fact that she almost never smiled at anyone but him. He even missed the way her shampoo smelled and the way she sometimes talked in her sleep.

All he knew now was that she wasn't with him, and he didn't have a clue how to make it up to her.

* * *

When Tempest grew bored of hearing Trepe talk about the Field Exam expectations, her mind wandered back to Syrus. They'd been so close for so long, it felt as if part of her was missing. She could admit to herself that she missed him, but there was nothing to be done about it. Things between them were over, no matter how much it hurt to have to walk away. She owed him no forgiveness, no loyalty because of what he'd done. He had no power over her anymore, no place in her heart or her life.

Still, she couldn't help but steal a glance at him. His eyes were trivetedo the floor and his shaggy blonde hair hid his face from her so that she couldn't see the number she'd done on him. He seemed to want to avoid eye contact after last night's activities as much as she did. It was better that he ignore her. There would be no confrontations.

But it hurt to be ignored, especially by the only person she'd ever allowed herself to open up to. She'd believed him when he said that they were meant for one another, that they belonged together, and that they'd be together forever. She'd believed in him, only to find out all of it was a lie. She'd allowed herself to be conned. That part hurt the most.

She pushed back these sentimental thoughts before they could further depress her. This was all for the best. Better to find out now that he was an insensitive douche bag than to find out years down the road. Besides, it wasn't as if she was going to forgive him, even if he apologized. She was still too hurt and too angry with him to forgive.

Her thoughts turned to the field exam, and she felt a rush of anticipation course through her.

Tempest had confidence in her abilities and was almost certain she'd pass the field exam, but she couldn't help the butterflies in her stomach or the cold sweat of anticipation that broke out on her brow every time she thought about it. More than anything, she just wanted to get it over with and become a SeeD. For herself, and for her parents.

Up front, Quenton was bringing the class to a close, and Tempest was looking forward to taking a nap before the exam. Maybe her head would feel a little better after a little rest.

"Class dismissed," Quenton said. "Oh, Syrus and Tempest. I need to see both of you before you leave."

Tempest pretended not to hear the giggles from the other students as she rose from her desk. Apparently, everyone knew what had happened between them, not that Tempest cared.

She knew the lecture she had anticipated earlier was now inevitable. Quenton was only a year older than she was, but he exercised his authority as if he were someone much older, if only in class. The rest of the time he was an obnoxious butthead.

It was in these moments of haughty superiority that Tempest disliked him most. She disliked this even more than his overzealous mothering. So many times, she wished she could have told him off, for real, but that would be insubordination, and Tempest was the kind of girl who usually followed the rules. So, she kept her mouth shut.

The sound of Syrus' boots shuffling behind her made Tempest straighten her posture and walk with a more confident step towards the front of the room. She was determined to show Syrus that he hadn't injured her that badly, even if her wounds were still smarting.

"What were the two of you thinking," Quenton asked after all the others had left the room. He perched on the edge of the desk and crossed his arms. "You both know that you're not to injure your partner while training."

Tempest stared back at Quenton without speaking. How could she explain her motivations when she herself didn't quite understand what she was doing. How could he understand the rage and hurt that had driven her.

"Look, I know the two of you can't stand the sight of each other right now, but you're just going to have to deal with it, or else," Quenton said. "Garden can not have students and SeeDs fighting amongst themselves. You both know it's not permitted, and I will not watch you cut each other to pieces just because you're both too stubborn to back down."

He glared at both of them to make his point but Tempest refused to meet his gaze.

"Tempest, I'm disappointed that you chose to break the rules like this. Syrus I can see, but this isn't like you," Quenton said.

Offended, Syrus spoke up.

"What was I supposed to do, Quenton, let her slice me up while I stood there looking stupid?"

"You could have been the bigger person and ended the fight."

"She was trying to take me out," Syrus fired back. "I didn't have a choice."

"Be that as it may," Quenton said, "This kind of behavior is inappropriate and I will not tolerate it. Whatever differences you have, they need to be settled out of the training center, and without violence. Is this in _any_ way unclear?"

Tempest looked away. This was all her fault.

"Next time it gets out of hand like this, you will both be suspended and adisciplinaryction _will_ be taken. Understood?"

"Yes sir," Tempest mumbled.

Quenton stared at them for a long moment before speaking again.

"Sometimes, it's best to surrender, especially when it escalates like this. I want you both to remember that."

"That word isn't part of my vocabulary, Instructor," Tempest replied. "You, of all people, should know that."

Syrus chuckled and shook his head, a knowing smile on his face.

"I beg to differ," he said. "I do recall -"

"Shut up," Tempest hissed and turned her angry blue eyes towards his vibrant green. How dare he mention anything of the sort in front of Quenton!

"Just correcting your mistake."

"My only mistake was letting myself care about you," Tempest growled.

"You cared? Could have fooled me. There's a reason you're known as the Ice Princess around here."

Tempest wanted to hit him, but she held back. All she'd wanted was to avoid another conflict with him, yet here she was, embarrassing herself in front of one of the instructors who would be grading her exam.

"Stop it, both of you," Quenton demanded. "This is childish and inappropriate. Either you agree to disagree or you're _both_ on suspension as of now."

Tempest bit back every nasty word that came to mind, took a deep breath, and decided to take Quenton's advice.

"I apologize instructor," she said softly. "It won't happen again."

Then, she turned on her heel and walked away

As the SeeD handbook said, "Walking away is not always an admission of defeat. Sometimes, it's the only way to win."

* * *

Syrus watched Tempest go with a mixture of longing and anger. He hadn't wanted to fight with her again, but a part of him knew that if he could still get her going, then she still had feelings for him. Tempest was the all or nothing type. If she didn't care, she didn't even bother with a smart ass come back, she just kept on going and pretended not to hear it.

This had to stop, one way or another. Quenton was right about that. But for reasons _other_ than those defined by their instructor.

Syrus knew he had to make things right again. He had to apologize.

He caught up to her in the hallway, where she pointedly ignored him, even when he moved ahead of her, turned around and walked backward so that she'd have to look at him.

"Tempest, we need to talk."

She kept going, as if he wasn't even there.

"Come on. I know you don't like arguing with me any more than I like arguing with you, so let's talk this out. Please."

"Go away, Syrus," was all she said.

"Not until you agree to talk to me."

"What's there to talk about?" she asked. "You're still a jerk and I've got better things to do."

"Like what, sit in your room and read comic books like you used to?" he asked.

He was baiting her, just because he needed to know that she still cared.

"Maybe," she said coolly. "Now move it. I don't have time for this."

"So you're just going to act like a child every time you see me from now on? Is that it? This is how you want it to be?"

"I'm not the one who's walking _backwards_," Tempest pointed out, "and I'm not the one who screwed up in the first place. This is how _you_ wanted it to be."

Syrus sighed. This was a lot harder than he thought it would be. And the worst part about it was that she was right. This was all his fault. Did that mean there was no way to make it up to her.? That she couldn't even be decent enough to listen to him?

"Would you at least let me apologize?" he asked as he backed into the elevator.

"I'm not having this conversation with you, Syrus. Not now, not ever," Tempest said and stepped back into the hall, letting the elevator doors close on him.

Angry, he slammed his fist against the door. Hyne, why did she have to be so hard headed? Why couldn't she be like other girls and just forgive him already?

But then, the reason he loved her to begin with was because she _wasn't _like other girls.

* * *

__

A\N: I may have said before, of all the stories I've written, this is probably my favorite, and I (unfortunately) abandoned it when it was met with some pretty harsh criticism and lack of readership (as well as other, more personal _reasons)._

Anyway, I absolutely love the dynamic between Tempest and Syrus, and this is the one I couldn't let go. So I've decided it deserves a full rewrite because I really wanted to continue to explore that relationship, as well as the others. Like the original game, I was guilty of only focusing on developing the main characters and leaving the rest pretty much flat 'types' versus a good supporting cast. __

While the major plot points of the story won't change, some things will, beginning with the next chapter. In the original post, the first few chapters paralleled the game quite a bit, though not exactly, but it did take a while to get to a point where it was it's own story. I realized I needed to get there sooner, and therefore, made some significant changes in chapter two, of which, you'll just have to read on to find out.

Well, anyhoo, I love this story, and I hope you do too. And, don't forget to leave a review!  
_  
Sara_


	3. Same Old Line You Used Before

**HISTORY NEVER REPEATS**  
_A FFVIII Second Generation Fan Fiction_

* * *

_**CHAPTER TWO**_

"_What though the field be lost-_  
_all is not lost-the unconquerable will,_  
_and study of revenge, immortal hate,_  
_and the courage never to submit or yield-"_  
Paradise Lost, Book 1, John Milton

* * *

Tempest stood in the lobby, trying to digest the shocking news that Syrus Almasy was her team captain for the Field Exam. If anyone was ill-suited to lead a mission, it was Syrus. Not because he wasn't capable, because he had the potential to be a great leader one day, but _only_ if he learned to stop being a pig headed bastard who only cared about himself. Not to mention, Tempest wasn't thrilled about being at his mercy so soon after their argument in front of Trepe and the skirmish in the Training Center. No doubt he'd lord it over her to the point where she might just _have_ to kill him.

"Almasy. How many times is this now," Instructor Mai Kushimura asked, a note of haughty disdain in her voice.

Syrus leaned against the directory as if he hadn't a care in the world, and flashed his mega-watt smile at the instructor.

"Third time's a charm," Syrus replied with a shrug.

"For your sake, I hope so."

Tempest heard the implied threat in the instructor's voice. If he failed this time, Syrus was out for good, and everyone knew it. There would be no more chances for Syrus Almasy, and Tempest knew that neither of his parents would take his expulsion from Garden lightly. Especially his mother. Selphie Almasy had high aspirations for her son, and expected nothing but high marks, good behavior and a bright future as a SeeD for Syrus. Anything less, and there would be hell to pay.

Seifer was more forgiving, though no one knew that but Tempest. Over the last couple of years, she'd gotten to know the family well, and had been surprised to learn that Seifer was the more lenient of the two. Maybe, because of the things he'd done in his youth, he was more willing to forgive his son minor screw ups. Though, Tempest wasn't so sure a final failure would go over well, even with Seifer.

Tempest sighed and thought about how much she'd grown to like the Almasy family. A small part of her had dared to hope that one day, she'd be a part of it. It was too bad their son was a total jerk. She would have liked to have called them her family, but, that ship had sailed, and Tempest was on her own.

Just like she'd always been.

Absently, she rubbed her hand against her forehead and then winced. The throbbing had subsided along with the local anesthetic, but now it was tender to the touch, and more than likely, badly bruised. It was a glaring reminder of her history with Syrus, and while she wasn't glad for the scar, she was glad for something to remind her of everything that had happened between them, and of why she couldn't allow herself to get close to anyone ever again.

"Congratulations to you all for coming this far," Cid began when everyone had gathered. "I know it has been a difficult road, but those of you that have made it to this point have all the training and resources you need to make it through today's mission."

"Do we have the resources and training to take out our captain?" Benji Dincht muttered in Tempest's ear. "That would make this _less_ difficult."

Tempest suppressed a chuckle and elbowed Benji hard enough to remind him that it was time to be serious. Even if his comment _was_ funny, and sadly, right on target.

"With that said, from this point forward, you will be graded based on your every action, reaction and conversation, as well as the other factors set forth by your instructors," Cid continued. "Good luck and be careful out there."

Tempest squared her shoulders and turned to follow Syrus out to the car that waited to take them to the train station.

"Tempest, wait a moment," Cid called.

She turned back and looked at him, wondering what this was about.

In his eyes, she saw pride and hope, and it almost broke her heart. Cid Kramer had always been her champion, and she owed him a great deal for everything he had done for her over the years. He was the one who'd gotten her into the gun blade specialist program at a time when it was a boys-only club. He was the one who believed in her, even when she hadn't believed in herself. Tempest would have done anything he asked.

"Keep Syrus out of trouble if you can," Cid whispered. "We can't afford to...."

"Afford to what?"

"Never mind. Forget I said anything," Chid said. "Now, go do your best."

Tempest didn't need to ask what he meant. She already knew. After all, Syrus had screwed this up twice before.

But why was Cid asking her to look out for Syrus? Was it that Cid wanted Syrus to pass, or was it something else? It seemed that it might be more than just a desire to see Syrus succeed, though she understood that Cid did want to see Syrus make it. So what was all this?

There was no Sorceress that she knew of, so she didn't understand Cid's fear. But then, back when her parents were young, no one had expected the worst to happen, either.

Did Cid know something they didn't? Was there something he wasn't telling them? Tempest hoped not, but she couldn't shake the feeling that she had a very difficult road ahead of her.

"You remind me so much of your father," Cid said, a hint of sadness in his eyes, though his voice conveyed his obvious pride. "You have his talent and strength. Go out there and show them _all_ what you can do."

"I will sir," Tempest said, her voice catching in her throat. She hoped he could see the gratitude in her eyes, even if she wasn't able to say it out loud.

Then she turned and sprinted down the hall to catch up with Syrus and Benji, who were already trading insults.

What fun _this_ was going to be. Her ex-boyfriend and a hyper-active hot dog fiend, both of whom just _happened_ to hate one another. Plus herself, who hated them _both_. They'd be lucky if they made it out of this without shredding each other to bits, never mind whatever enemy awaited them. Tempest had to keep reminding herself to stay in control and ignore all but her orders. If she could do that, everything would be fine.

* * *

"What are we doing here anyway?" Syrus complained as he leaned against a brick wall in an alleyway in Timber. "I thought this hell hole had it's own army."

Tempest turned her cool blue eyes on him and shrugged. As usual, she was giving nothing away. Sometimes, she could be the most frustrating, inscrutablecreature he'd ever met. For once, he wished she'd just relax and let down her guard for more than five minutes. Hyne knew, when she did let down her guard, she was the most aamazingperson he'd ever met.

"Timber hasn't had an army since before our parents were born," Benji piped up. "But you'd _know _that if you hadn't slept through history class. Or through the mission briefing, for that matter."

Syrus' cheeks flamed, but he didn't have a comeback because it was the truth.

So he'd slept through the briefing. Big deal. All he'd really needed were the orders, anyhow. Which were pathetic. They were supposed to stand guard in some filthy alley behind a pub full of slovenly drunks, while all the action was to be had elsewhere.

And what was the big deal about this alley, anyway? It was dank, dirty, and smelled of urine, vomit, and garbage. Not to mention the heap next to the dumpster that looked suspiciously like a _body_. Just being here was an insult. Everyone knew he was capable of much more than just standing around watching mold grow on yesterday's trash.

For that matter, this assignment was a waste of Tempest's talent. Besides Syrus, Tempest was one of the best fighters at Garden, and everyone knew that, Syrus included. The two of them should have been sent into the fray where they could put the hurt on some G-Army thugs and wreck some major havoc. Instead, they were stuck _here_, protecting the dead guy next to the dumpster, while a bunch of second string nobodies got to have all the fun. It didn't make any sense.

"So if they don't have an army," Syrus finally asked, "who hired us and what the hell are we doing here?"

Benji rolled his eyes and opened his mouth to answer, but it was Tempest who spoke.

"The _Forest Owls_. My mother's old resistance faction," she said quietly, without meeting his gaze. "And we're here to stop the Galbadian invasion and protect the citizens of Timber from whatever it is that they're doing here.".

"That doesn't explain what we're doing in an _alley_ behind a _bar_ where there's absolutely no one around to fight _or_ protect."

"Doesn't matter. This is our assignment," Tempest said, calm and cool as always. "No questions asked."

Syrus didn't understand how she could be so accepting of the situation. All around them, Syrus could hear blasts of machine gun fire, while they were stuck here, doing absolutely _nothing_ in this stinking alley. Why weren't their combined talents being put to good use, and why was Tempest so calm about letting her talent be wasted like this? He knew she was itching for a good fight, just like he was.

"I'm sick of this shit," Syrus finally muttered, agitated by the lack of action and lack of faith in his abilities. "I was sent to fight, not stand around guarding a dumpster."

"Cool it, Sy," Tempest said. "We're here for a reason. Don't question it."

For the first time, Syrus wished Tempest wasn't so unflappable. Her calm demeanor was starting to get on his nerves, and it certainly wasn't helping matters any, even if what she said made sense. Too much sense, really.

But, Hyne, Syrus was bored. He paced for a moment, then leaned back against the wall, watching Tempest, who was either ignoring him or oblivious to his attention. She had no idea how beautiful she was. Or how much he really cared for her.

He watched as her eyes darted upward, toward the rooftops and then back toward the alley. At least Syrus could count on her constant surveillance, if not her support for finding something better to do.

"You'd think with my talent they'd give me a better assignment than this," Syrus said and began to pace. "This is just stupid."

"Maybe they wanted to give you a job you couldn't screw up," Benji remarked.

Syrus was tempted to knock him out, but he held back, if only for the sake of passing the exam. His mother would _literally_ murder him if he failed this time. Selphie Almasy may have been small, but she'd never failed to scare the _shit_ out of him when she was angry. He had a feeling that if he didn't pass this time, he would see a whole new side of his mother's temper, and it wouldn't be pretty.

Funny, how everyone was afraid of his dad, when it was really his _mother_ everyone should have feared. While Selphie Almasy had the biggest heart of anyone Syrus had ever known, a perky, upbeat personality that most found charming and cute, she could also be stubborn in a way that made even Tempest look wishy-washy. Not to mention, she had a temper to rival that of Sorceress Adel and was completely unafraid of raining hell down upon anyone who crossed her.

"Shut it, Chicken-Wuss," Syrus finally said.

"Why the hell do you keep calling me that? I don't even know what a chicken wuss _is_!"

"Ask your dad."

"Stop it, both of you," Tempest warned. "I don't give a damn _what_ they sent us here to do. I'm going to do it without question. I suggest both of you do the same if you want to pass."

Syrus' eyes met hers across the alley and he read the warning there. She was telling him not to screw this up for her, that there would be hell to pay if he did. Syrus knew that he might not live to see another day if things got out of hand, so instead of baiting her, he backed off. Sometimes, Tempest was as scary as his mother when she was angry, and he didn't doubt she'd make him pay if she failed because of him.

Syrus decided it was best to just shut up.

The minutes passed slowly while they waited for something to happen. Tempest leaned against the wall, keeping up her vigilant watch while Benji sat on the steps that lead back into the bar, picking at something under his fingernails. Syrus was betting on mustard and bits of hot-dog bun leftover from breakfast..

When Syrus saw Tempest stiffen and go absolutely still, he went on alert, following her gaze to the end of the alley.

Up ahead, six or eight Galbadian soldiers headed up the staircase, without even glancing their direction. Syrus sent a glance at Tempest as he moved to her side. He could feel the tension roiling off her and he knew that she, too was ready for a fight.

"See that?" he murmured, even though he knew she had.

"Yeah."

Tempest's hand went to the grip of her blade, ready to fight.

"What's over there?"

"Television station."

"That's the only working station in the world," Benji piped up. "Well, it's the only one capable of broadcasting all over the world, anyway. Wonder what they want with it?"

"To broadcast something," Tempest said, her tone flat, though Syrus detected an almost imperceptible note of concern in her voice.

The wheels in Syrus' head began to spin. It was clear to him that the Television Station was Galbadia's primary objective in Timber. There was no other reason for them to be there otherwise. The town had _nothing _to offer anyone with half a brain. It was dirty, poor and run down to the point where most of the buildings should have been condemned and bulldozed. The streets were filthy and littered with trash, and graffiti decorated just about every surface within arm's reach. Not to mention the drug dealers, panhandlers and prostitutes. Timber was the armpit of the world, and everyone knew it.

It made sense, though, that Galbadia might want to say something to everyone who would listen. Syrus didn't care _what_ the message was, he just knew that Galbadia had come with the sole purpose of taking over the station so that they could broadcast something to the entire world.

Just like they had when his father was young.

That thought made his heart pound in his chest.

Hyne, how stupid could they be? Did Galbadia really think no one would figure it out, even though it had been done before? It hadn't gone too well the first time, and if he could help it, it wouldn't work out so well this time, either.

"History repeats itself," Tempest murmured, as if picking up on Syrus' thoughts.

Weird how, even with this rift between them, they could still tell what the other was thinking. It gave Syrus a small measure of hope that maybe things weren't quite over between them. Hyne, he hoped not.

"The question is, what," Benji said. "What could be so important that they would resort to holding the city hostage? Why couldn't they just ask for a little air time?"

"Who cares?" Syrus said. "TV station's our new objective."

"What?" Benji cried. "No way. We were told to stay here in the alley until further notice. Orders are orders."

"It's on our patrol route," Syrus said. "Technically speaking."

"I don't know about that," Benji said with a shake of his head. "Patrol route ends where the alley ends. No further. Do I need to show you the map?"

"Fine, stay here," Syrus declared, turning his attention to Tempest.

He knew she was going, whether she liked it or not. She would follow his orders, even if they went against those issued by Garden.

"You staying behind to baby-sit?"

"I stand by whatever you decide, Captain."

"Atta girl," Syrus said.

"What?" Benji cried. "Tempest, what's wrong with you? You're not seriously going to go with him, are you?"

"Its the Captain's decision," Tempest replied in a flat voice.

Syrus clapped his hand against Tempest's shoulder and grinned down at her, feeling a rush of love and camaraderie.

"I knew there was a bloodthirsty bitch hiding somewhere inside you, Leonhart."

Syrus saw her wince at that and knew that it was the wrong thing to say. For the billionth time that day, he wished that things hadn't gone so horribly wrong between them. He hated the way she looked at him now.

With less enthusiasm, he said, "Let's go kill us some G-Army douche bags, shall we?"

* * *

Tempest tried not to let Syrus' remark get to her, but it still bothered her. Because it was partially true. She was bored with standing around in a foul smelling alley with nothing to do, but at the same time, she was reluctant to go too far off the patrol route without permission from Garden. Still, she couldn't deny that eight G-Army soldiers heading for the Station was pretty suspicious. Perhaps, Syrus' decision to follow was justified. Perhaps not.

And, she knew that Syrus would take the heat for not following orders, not her. In fact, she knew _she'd_ lose points for trying to convince him to stay put, versus going along with whatever he said.

But, a small part of her wanted to argue the point with him, because she knew by issuing this order, he'd set himself up to fail again, even if in his heart, he believed he was right. In spite of it all, she didn't want to see him fail. He was too good a fighter to waste his talent serving Galbadia, or worse, one of the rogue mercenary forces that would use and abuse his talent and offer him little compensation in return, but that was exactly what was going to happen if he failed a third time.

It _was_ his choice, though. He was the one that made the decision, and it wasn't Tempest's place to question it.

History really _was_ about to repeat itself, Tempest thought. Hadn't Syrus' father done the exact same thing back when her own father was a cadet? Hadn't Syrus learned anything from the man? Anything at all?

Hyne, what if all this was about to lead to the same situation her parents had been in? Maybe that explained the concern Cid had shown earlier. Maybe he really did know something was up and was trying to warn her.

_Try to keep Syrus out of trouble._

Wasn't that what Cid had said? If he'd been so concerned, why hadn't he appointed someone else Captain instead of giving Syrus the opportunity ot screw up in a way that might change everyone's life or endanger the world, as it had when their parents had been kids.

Unsettled, Tempest followed Syrus up the metal staircase in silence.

"You're thinking I'm making the same mistake my dad did, aren't you?" Syrus asked.

"Are you?"

Syrus didn't answer, but Tempest could feel the conflict in him. She knew him well enough to know what his hesitation meant, and she could clearly read the expression on his face. He was second guessing himself, now unsure about having made the right decision.

"My gut's telling me that something ugly's about to go down and the rest is just a distraction," he finally said, waving an arm to indicate the battles going on around them. "It's also telling me that maybe Cid assigned us to this post because he knew that this wasn't just another attempt by Galbadia to subdue the unruly insurgents of Timber. He knew the TV station was what they wanted before he sent us and he wanted somebody at the back door to take action if necessary."

"And, he knew that you'd want all the glory."

"Something like that, yeah,"

"Shouldn't we wait for those orders to take action, instead of assuming things?"

Syrus sighed. "If a building was on fire, and there were kids trapped inside, would you wait till you were ordered to save them?"

"It's not the same thing."

"It isn't? What if they have hostages?"

"What if they don't?"

"You want to take that chance?"

"I want to pass the exam," Tempest said.

"Hey, wait up!" Benji called as he thundered up the stairs behind them.

"Nice of you to join us," Syrus muttered and continued down the steel catwalk toward the back door of the TV station.

"We're really doing this?" Benji asked, glancing from Tempest to Syrus and back again.

"Scared?" Syrus taunted.

"Stop it," Tempest cut in.

She was about ready to push them both over the side and be done with it. Her nerves were already raw enough, given the situation and her worries about what Cid had said, and two arguing idiots were the last thing she needed. Not to mention, points deducted for unnecessary conversation.

Still, she had to admit, she too, felt compelled to check things out. It was almost as if something inside the television station were calling out to her. Something or someone. And the closer they got, the stronger the feeling became.

She shook her head and exhaled, telling herself she was imagining it. It was just anxiety. A way to justify breaking rank.

But the feeling was still there, stronger now, and it was hard to deny that something inside that building was summoning her. Was that a voice she heard, crying out for help or was it only in her head? Hyne, she was confused.

At the back entrance to the TV station, Syrus hesitated.

"Be ready for anything. Don't know how many of them might be in there. Or what they're up to."

Benji shook his head. "Man, this is stupid. What are you trying to prove?"

"Benji-" Tempest warned.

"I was just wondering if it's wise to go in, not knowing how many are in there, without any back up or contact with command about where we are and what we're doing."

"Don't worry about it," Syrus said. "They know. They're listening, remember."

"Tempest-" Benji began, looking helpless and scared. "Talk some sense into your man. This is crazy."

Tempest's cheeks flared, but she kept her silence. Syrus was not her man anymore. And she could no more talk sense into him than she could turn back and wait.

Whatever was inside tugged at her.

_Open the door. Help me. Please. _

"You hear that?" Tempest murmured so that only Syrus could hear her.

"Hear what?"

Hyne, it had to be her imagination and nothing else. Just a combination of curiosity and anxiety and nothing more. She shook it off.

"Nothing. Never mind."

Syrus turned to her and grinned. "Your first real battle, kiddo. How's it feel? You afraid?"

"I'm not afraid of anything."

His green eyes darkened and he looked distracted for a moment.

Then he clamped his hand down on her shoulder and said softly, "I know you're not."

Tempest brushed his hand away and sent him a warning look that she hoped conveyed her desire to chop off his hand the next time he dared touch her. She could see the hurt in his eyes for just a split second, then it was gone and was replaced by what she thought of as his battle face. His expression was now cocky and determined, but Tempest knew better than anyone that it was no affectation. He was good and he knew it.

"So, you wanna go raise some hell with me?" he asked.

"Not really. I'm just following orders."

_Please-help me. _

The voice was more insistent this time, and clearer. Too real to be her imagination, but Tempest shook it off.

"You really ought to learn to think for yourself, Tempest. You'd be a lot happier."

"I do think for myself," Tempest said. "But, unlike you, I look before I leap."

Syrus gave her a long, appraising and serious look, and for the first time in weeks, she could see the young man she'd fallen in love with. Not the cocky, sarcastic bastard who'd stomped on her heart, but the one who'd revealed himself to be gentle, kind and funny. She could see, just for a moment, why she'd fallen for him in the first place.

Almost on it's own, his hand reached out to smooth back her hair, stopped short, and fell away. Tempest's heartbeat went double-time.

_Damn him for still having that effect on me_, Tempest thought. _Damn him for being what he is. _

"Don't," she warned.

Tempest's head started to...buzz. Or at least, that's what it seemed like. She felt half disconnected for a moment, as if she were about to pass out, and then she heard it again, this time louder and clearer and most certainly real.

_There's not much time. Please, hurry! _

The urgency in the voice made Tempest almost throw open the door herself. Whomever was calling to her was inside and in danger. There was real fear in that voice, and Tempest was almost convinced that the person was not urging her on the behalf of the G-army, but out of sheer terror for her life.

_Her._

Tempest didn't know how she knew, but she was certain the voice was female, though she couldn't judge if it was a woman or a child or somewhere in between.

"Look, are we going in or not," Benji whined, "because we're sitting ducks out here, man. There could be, like, snipers on the rooftops or something. Makes me nervous just thinking about it.."

Without waiting for Syrus, Tempest reached for the door.

"Let's go," she said, completely forgetting who was in charge.

Not that it mattered.

* * *

A/N:

This chapter is entirely new. In the original version, it was much closer in scenario and dialogue to the game. Though it wasn't EXACTLY the same, as some readers accused, it was basically a repeat of the game, set in a different location with varied but similar dialogue. So, in rethinking this story, I realized that if I was going to include the SeeD exam in the story instead of just starting with the ball or perhaps the first mission, I needed to make things a little more interesting. Maybe start the ball rolling a little earlier than the fourth or fifth chapter, as with the original.

But, by making things more interesting, somehow the exam turned into something completely new and different than before, and it will have everything to do with the remainder of the story, though we won't find out how until later.

And, so as I said, I've varied perspectives instead of just writing from Tempest's pov. So far, it's just Syrus and Tempest, but look for Cid, Quenton, Benji and possibly Quistis in coming chapters, as well as a potential mystery guest or two.

Happy reading!

And don't forget to review!


	4. TV Station, Revisited

**HISTORY NEVER REPEATS**  
_A FFVIII Second Generation Fan Fiction_

* * *

**CHAPTER THREE**

_"I'm gonna take you to a place far from here_  
_no one can see us, watch the pain as it disappears_  
_no time for anger_  
_no time for dispair_  
_please let me take you_  
_'cause I'm already there"_  
~Testament,_ Return to Serenity_

* * *

Quenton Trepe sat in the Garden vehicle listening to Squad B's conversation with dismay. This was almost a repeat of what had happened twenty years ago, and nothing good would come of it.

Damn Syrus Almasy! He was nothing but trouble, and he was about to get his squad into a very dangerous situation, all because he thought he was a hotshot who knew better than the rest of them, including command. Why couldn't Syrus just do what he was told, like everyone else? Why did he have to act like he had something to prove, when everyone knew that he was one of the best fighters in the organization? Syrus and Tempest were on a very short list of fighters who had exceeded the boundaries of skill required to work as a SeeD. They were in a class of their own, even when compared to experienced SeeDs who'd been around for a while.

Why was Syrus doing this? Was there something in the Almasy gene that made them incapable of following orders or having any common sense?

Garden had known going in that the TV station was likely Galbadia's target, but they'd had no intention of sending SeeD candidates in to fight that particular battle. Now, right in the thick of it was Tempest Leonhart, whom Quenton had been in love with since he'd first laid eyes on her.

Damn Almasy for putting her in danger. Damn him to hell.

"Command, this is Trepe, come back," Quenton said into his headset.

"Go ahead," came the dispatcher's voice.

"We have a situation going down at the TV station, send back-up ASAP. Almasy's gone cowboy on us."

"And Squad B?" Commander Trepe's concerned voice cut in over the connection. His mother. Just what he needed. "What's their status?"

"Sounds like they're going in with him."

"Fuck," Quistis said, sounding furious.

Quenton was shocked into silence. He'd never heard his mother use that kind of language before, and it took only a second for him to realize that there was more to it than he'd been told. Perhaps a lot more. Otherwise, his stoic, all business, cool and collected mother would never have dropped an f-bomb over an open radio frequency where everyone listening might have heard her lose her composure. It made Quenton very, very uneasy to know that his mother could be rattled, and that whatever was going on, Tempest was stuck in the middle of it, thanks to Almasy.

"All available units, report to the TV station immediately."

"Copy," the dispatcher said. "All available units-"

"Wait just a minute," Cid cut in. "Let's see what they can do."

Quenton couldn't remember an exam where Cid had felt it necessary to listen in, and if he had, he'd never made himself known like this before. Quenton was willing to bet, this mission was an exception, not the rule.

So, what would make Cid Kramer feel the need to listen in on this one?

There was only one thing Quenton could think of, and that thought made him very, very worried.

A Sorceress in Galbadia's posession.

"Let's give them a chance to prove themselves. Syrus might well have a good reason to break rank," Cid said. "You remember, his father had good instincts too, and he'd been right about the antenna in Dollet."

"Be that as it may, sir," Quistis said, "I'm sure you remember that Seifer failed because of it."

"Seifer only failed because of the way he went about it, not necessarily because he didn't stay in his designated patrol area," Cid said. "Let the Candidates be, for now."

"What?" Quistis and Quenton cried simultaneously.

"Do you not trust your cadets to show you how capable they are."

"Sir, it's not that-" Quenton began.

"Tempest and Syrus are two of the best fighters Garden has seen since the last Sorceress war. Better than their fathers were. Let them prove their abilities. If it starts to look ugly, send in the cavalry."

"Sir-" Quistis began and than faltered. Quenton guessed that his mother didn't want to be insubbordinate, no matter how much she disagreed.

"I know the situation, Commander," Cid said, "and you should know better than most that one can not deny their fate."

"What are you saying, Cid?" Quistis asked, now sounding frightened.

Quenton could count on one hand the times that his mother had showed fear in his lifetime. Three of those times had been when Quenton was sick with pneumonia when he was eleven. The fourth and last was when he'd been injured during a mission. Fear was not something Quistis Trepe was easily given to, but whatever was happening, she _was _afraid, and that made Quenton very uneasy, and very concerned. Not just for Tempest, but for everyone, and it only strengthened Quenton's belief that Galbadia might have a Sorceress.

"I'm saying, let's see how this plays out. I don't want to make the same mistake twice."

What he was really saying, was that he didn't want Syrus to end up like his old man. If there was any mistake here, it was not pulling Almasy's cocky ass out of the fray immediately.

But it wasn't Quenton's place to question. He based his own actions on the fact that people like Cid and his mother knew what they were doing, even if he disagreed. Just as a SeeD should.

"All available units, standby," Quistis said, and Quenton could have sworn he heard her voice catch in her throat.

Quenton sat back in his chair and thought about what all this might mean and about all that he'd heard. What the hell had Cid meant, that one could not deny their fate? Who's fate was he talking about, Tempest or Syrus or both?

"Mom, what's going on?" Quenton asked, now very worried that something bad was about to happen.

"Not your concern, instructor," his mother said, all business once more, "and it's _Commander_ to you."

"Yes, Ma'am. Shall I report to the TV station with the back up crew?"

"Stay where you are," she said. "Continue to monitor the cadets and report back if it sounds like they're in danger.".

"Copy."

Frustrated, Quenton threw down the pencil he'd been using to assess points and swore to himself. Fate or not, this situation was getting more dangerous by the second. He listened in, quietly seething.

What did Almasy think he was doing? Deliberately defying command during a field exam, for the _third_ time, no less. Putting _himself_ in dnager was one thing. Putting the rest of his team in harm's way to satisfy his own ego was another. And why was Cid letting him have free reign? Didn't he know the risks of such a decision? They all knew the three cadets were good. They didn't need to prove their abilities to anyone. Not the instructors or the commander or even Cid needed to see proof of their talent for battle, so that wasn't what this was about. There was something else Cid was looking for. Quenton was sure of it.

On the bright side, Syrus would inevitably screw it up and fail. Which meant Almasy would no longer be Quenton's personal pain in the ass anymore. A third failure meant he was done at Garden.

And that meant, maybe Quenton might finally have a shot at Tempest.

If she lived through it, that was.

* * *

Syrus took point position and carefully lead his team through a dark hallway flanked by a series of closed doors, each identified by brass plates afixed to the left of each doorway. It was quiet inside, and nothing moved. It seemed the place was abandoned, though Syrus knew better. Now that he was inside, he wasn't sure if they should check every room or keep moving, so he proceeded with caution, listening for voices as they went.

For once, Benji was silent.

Thank Hyne for small miracles.

Tempest brought up the rear, and a glance over his shoulder showed that she was tense, but her face revealed none of the anxiety Syrus was feeling. Typical. Even if she was scared to death, she'd never show it. At least he knew he could count on her if the situation were to get out of hand.

Up ahead was an intersection. He paused in the doorway and crouched low, motioning for the team to wait. Straight ahead revealed another darkened section of hallway. To the left was the main entrance and a reception desk. To the right, another long hallway, this one wider than the others, lighted and decorated with large posters of popular television shows, both past and present.

If he were to guess, he was betting that the passage to the right lead to the studios. Which, was where they needed to be, he guessed. What else of value could the Television Station hold for them except for a little stolen air time?

"Where the hell did they go?" Benji whispered.

"Dunno. Now shut up. Trying to think, here."

"I thought you had a plan!" Benji cried, louder than Syrus would have liked.

Tempest elbowed him in the ribs and sent him a scathing look.

"Keep it down," she breathed.

"Hyne, this is stupid," he muttered for the hundredth time.

"Duly noted, now shut the hell up and let me think," Syrus said.

What to do? Go in, blades drawn and start a fight? Sneak in and risk being surrounded, wounded and possibly killed?

The chicken-wuss was right. This was stupid, but it was also too late to back out now. They were already inside. Might as well check the situation out, now that he'd essentially destroyed his chances of becoming a SeeD. Might as well make it worth the trouble.

There were at least six G-army inside. Probably double that number, if not triple. So, maybe twelve to eighteen. Not so bad, Syrus supposed, as long as they weren't all in the same place at the same time. He and Tempest could take out most of them, and while Benji was a crybaby, he wasn't exactly a pushover when it came to fighting. He could hold his own should they encounter more G-army than expected. But, if there were more than his estimate, they'd be in deep trouble.

Well, they'd just have to take the chance.

"Lets go," he whispered and proceeded with caution down the corridor to the right.

As he'd suspected, it lead to a series of three studios, according to the large map in the lobby. They'd have to check each one and hope that the bulk of the G-army wasn't concentrated in one particular studio.

The first of the studios had been stripped of everything of value. The set of a popular morning talk show still remained, but all the cameras, sound equipment and lighting had been hauled away, and it had been done very recently, which struck Syrus as very, very strange. Perhaps they were remodeling. Or changing formats completely.

Or it had all been stolen.

Was that what they were here for? That didn't seem right. All this fuss for some air time?

"Tempest, check the sound booth," he said softly.

She gave him a curt nod and headed up the asile to the back. Syrus silently watched her climb up to the platform above the door and disappear into the darkened booth. Not being able to see her suddenly left him with a uneasy feeling. He'd sensed earlier that there was something strange going on with her, but he'd told himself that it was just her anxiety at facing a real battle situation for the first time. Now, he wasn't so sure.

He turned his attention back to the studio and gave it a closer look. He had assumed that Galbadia's intent was to broadcast something from this station, but maybe he'd assumed incorrectly. Maybe they just wanted the equipment. Was Galbadia planning to build their own TV station and had decided to skimp on costs by stealing what they didn't want to pay for? It wouldn't have been a surprise, but it seemed an awful lot of trouble to go to, just to aquire some equipment.

"Hey! What are you kids doing in here. This is private property!" a voice cried from the doorway.

Syrus turned to see two G-Army standing there, looking bewildered at finding a couple of kids wandering around inside an occupied building.

"I could ask you the same question," Syrus said, drawing his blade.

"They're SeeDs," one of the soldiers said.

He lifted his machine gun and trained it on Syrus. Syrus didn't lower his blade.

"So what? They're just kids."

Tempest appeared on the platform above, silent as a wraith, and lept over the side without hesitating. She landed on her feet like a cat, behind the two soldiers, blade drawn, blocking them from making a hasty escape.

Syrus smiled to himself. The girl had guts, that was for certain. It was just one of the many, many things he loved about her.

"So," Syrus drawled. "What is all this about?"

Beside him, Benji cracked his knuckles.

"We're just following orders. We don't want any trouble," the first soldier said, holding up his hands.

"Too late for that."

Without warning, Tempest seized the second soldier and pressed her blade against his throat. His eyes bulged and he let out a pathetic yelp as reflex made him drop his gun. It fell to the floor with a clatter and Tempest deftly kicked it out of reach, all the while maintaining her grip on the whimpering G-Army peon.

Benji retrieved the weapon and slipped it under his belt for safe keeping. Syrus was relieved that Benji had enough common sense to arm himself in a situation like this. Fists would only go so far if they were surrounded. A machine gun, however, could cut through a swarm of them with ease.

"What are your orders?" Tempest demanded, calm but ice-cold. "Tell us, and maybe I'll think about not killing you."

Syrus had never heard her sound so menacing, and he was both unnerved and turned on by it. Nothing like a woman who knew how to get things done.

"Cameras. Deling wants the cameras," the man cried. "I don't know what for. They don't tell us nothin'."

"You," Tempest said calmly, looking at the other soldier, "put your weapon on the floor and your hands in the air if you want to keep your friend alive."

The soldier dropped his katana and kicked it toward Syrus and Benji. Syrus could see that the guy was practically a kid himself and he was scared to death. Syrus almost felt bad for him. Almost. He retrieved the blade and handed it to Benji. Benji looked at it as if he'd never seen one before.

"If you wanted cameras, why didn't you just ask to borrow them?" Benji said, echoing Syrus' thoughts. "Or hell, just buy your own. They can't be worth all this."

"I don't know," the soldier whined, wincing as Tempest's blade pressed harder against his throat. "I'm just a foot soldier. I'm just following orders, okay. I don't know anything!"

Then, he realized that the soldier had said _Deling_. Not _Bastion_, the current Galbadian dictator and distant cousin of Vinzer, but _Deling_.

"Deling?" Syrus asked. "He's dead. Been dead for a long time."

"No, man," Tempest's captive said. "Vinzer Deling's son. Mikas. Dr. Mikas Deling."

Syrus didn't have a clue who Dr. Mikas Deling was. He'd never heard of the man. Knowing that Benji was a fountain of useless knowlege, he turned to his charge and raised an eyebrow.

"Great Hyne on a stick, Syrus," Benji said. "How did you ever pass the written exam?"

"Cheated off you. Now tell me what I need to know."

"Dr. Mikas Deling, son of former Galbadian President, Vinzer, recieved his Doctorate of Medicine and in Occult Practice from the University of Galbadia twenty-one years ago. Interned under Dr. Odine of Esthar, then returned to Galbadia to set up his own research facility, where he studies the sciences of the occult, including, but not limited to GF's, time magic, Sorceress Theory and Suppression-oh!" Benji said, cutting himself off as he realized what he was saying. "You don't think-"

If the good Doc was studying magic, Sorceresses, Time Compression and whatnot, perhaps there was something he wanted to share, but could only share from his lab. But why steal Timber's cameras? What was the big deal about these particular cameras and this equipment?

Then, he realized that the equipment here was the only equipment that he knew of that was compatible with the antenna in Dollet, which was the only way to send a live, worldwide broadcast. The newer cameras and equipment were only HD compatible, not analogue.

"Hyne, I hope not," Syrus said.

He turned his attention back to Tempest and the two G-Army creeps. Tempest had not let her hostage go. Syrus watched her face for a moment, as it changed from an expression of stony disinterest to genuine fear to pure rage. Something they'd said or done had pissed her off, though Syrus had not seen or heard anything from either of their captives.

"Where's the girl?" Tempest asked.

She gripped her hostage tighter and pressed her blade into the flesh of his throat. Syrus saw a thin trickle of blood make it's way down the man's neck and wondered if maybe Tempest was going too far. There were other ways to get information, and whatever was fuling her rage was getting in the way of her common sense. And that was completely unlike her. If anything Tempest was the one he could count on to not make rash decisions, to follow orders and go by the book.

"I don't know!"

"Don't lie to me!" Tempest cried. "She's here, in one of the studios. _Which one_?"

"I told you, I don't know! They don't tell us anything, I swear."

Syrus almost stopped her then, but he didn't understand what she meant about 'the girl.' His heart had begun to pound, knowing that something big was about to go down, and whatever it was, Tempest had somehow figured it out before he had.

"Not good enough," Tempest said. "You know where she is, and you're going to tell me."

She yanked the guy's head back a little further, gripping his hair with her free hand. The look on her face was both cold and determined. It scared the hell out of Syrus. This girl standing before him, her blade perilously close to killing the soldier, was not the girl he knew. There was something savage and feral in her eyes, something inhumane and deadly. Sure, she was a nightmare in combat, but this was something else. Some unknown factor was at play here, and Syrus did not understand where this rage was coming from or who this girl she kept mentioning was.

"What the-" Benji murmured.

"Okay, okay! She's in studio B," the captive cried.

"What do they want with her?"

The soldier began to sob.

"I don't know, okay? I told you everything I know. Just-don't kill me. Please, don't kill me. I got kids, a wife."

Tempest's expression didn't soften any, but she let him go. He lifted a hand to his throat and coughed.

"How many guards?"

"Ten, maybe. They're loading up the equipment from Studio B as we speak," the first soldier informed them, "and I'm betting they're wondering where we are right about now. So, ah, maybe you should let us go."

Syrus raised an eyebrow at Tempest.

"What do you think? Should we let them live?" Syrus asked.

"You're asking me?"

Syrus shrugged and turned toward Benji.

"Well?"

"Um, they _did_ co-operate," Benji said. "I mean, we shouldn't kill them just because we feel like it."

"Okay. Take them upstairs and secure them in the sound booth."

"And what are you going to do?" Benji asked.

"You let me worry about that."

"You heard him," Tempest said to the soldiers. "Move it."

While the two of them handled the captives, Syrus took a closer look at the damage done. Literally everything had been stripped from the room but the set. It didn't make sense. There had to be something bigger going on than some loony doctor needing a few cameras. Even the wiring for the track lighting was gone. What could he possibly need all this equipment for? And what, exactly, could he want to broadcast?

And what _girl_ had Tempest been talking about?

The soldiers had confirmed that, indeed, there _was_ a girl, though how Tempest could have known, Syrus hadn't a clue. How was this girl tied to what was going on here, and what did the cameras have to do with it? Was she friend or foe? A hostage or here of her own accord?

Nothing was making any sense. And it bothered Syrus that Tempest had either anticipated this or was somehow tied to it too. And if Tempest ws tied to it, that was a whole other can of sandworms Syrus didn't want to even think about.

The fact that this Deling guy studied occult magic bugged Syrus too. There was no need for a full scale assault on Timber to steal _cameras_ unless something major was going down, and even then, Deling would need to hook up with the signal from Dollet if he wanted to pull off a live broadcast. Which meant...

"Command, if you read, there's a possiblity that Dollet may be Galbadia's next target," he said into the small device attatched to his lapel that had been recording their conversations.

They couldn't communicate with him, but he was pretty sure they'd heard him, and even so, they'd probably already figured it out, but in case they hadn't, he wanted to pass it along.

Which meant what, besides?

That Deling had found himself a Sorceress?

Who was the current Sorceress, anyway? Syrus didn't know. When Tempest's mother died, whom had she passed her powers onto? A nurse or doctor at the hospital in Balamb? The motorist who'd stopped to help immediately after the accident? No one knew, really, though Syrus was willing to bet Cid and Edea Kramer knew and just weren't telling. For all Syrus knew, the Sorceress was Edea. After all, she'd been the only woman associated with Garden to see Mrs. Leonhart before she'd died.

Whoever she was, she'd been in hiding since then, maybe even at Moonbase II, like Adel, for both her own safety and that of the world. And if that was the case, then there was no need to worry, was there? Moonbase II was as secure as it got, and there was no escaping from it.

None of this made sense. None at all.

Syrus looked up at the sound of footsteps descending the metal staircase from the soundbooth and saw that Benji was alone. Cold fear gripped his heart.

"Yo, Syrus," Benji called, sounding worried. "Something's wrong with Tempest."

* * *

Notes:

Somehow, this chapter got deleted or skipped when uploading new chapters back in the day. The reason the jump didn't make sense was because this somehow went missing. Hopefully, this clears up a question or two.


	5. Like Someone Calling My Name

**HISTORY NEVER REPEATS**  
_A FFVIII Second Generation Fan Fiction_

* * *

_"Not a day passes...not a minute or second without an accouchement;  
not a day passes...not a minute or second without a corpse."_  
~From Leaves of Grass, Walt Whitman

* * *

**CHAPTER THREE**

There was, indeed, something wrong with Tempest. Syrus could see it in the way she stood and in her face. She leaned against the closed door of the soundbooth, her face pale and her eyes distant, and absolutely no expression on her face. It wasn't her typical inscrutible expression, this was different. Worthy of concern. To Syrus, it looked as if there was nothing going on behind her eyes. Nothing. There was no emotion, no intelligence, no _life_ in her eyes at all.

Panic and fear overtook Syrus as he moved closer and waved a hand in front of her face. Her eyes didn't follow the movement of his hand, she just just continued to stare out into space as if she'd gone catatonic.

"Tempest," he said and leaned down to peer into her blank, ashen face. She stared _through_ him.

"What happened?" he asked Benji.

"I don't know," Benji said. "Thought she was behind me, but when I looked back, she was like _this_."

"Tempest," Syrus said, louder this time and took hold of her narrow shoulders. He gave her a good shake and called her name again.

This time, she heard him and came out of it as if it had never happened. An angry glare replaced the empty expression and she gave him a hard shove.

"Get your hands off me."

Her voice was icy, her gaze deadly, but Syrus felt nothing but relief. Her anger, he could handle. That dead, vacant look was more than he could take. He hoped that she was just deep in thought, but he suspected it was something else. In all the years he'd known her, she'd never gone blank on him. He'd seen her lost in her thoughts a thousand times. She spent a great deal of time wrapped up inside her own head. She might have looked far away, but she'd looked alive.

"You okay?"

Tempest gave him a strange look.

"Yeah, why?"

"You blacked out," Benji said. "Or something."

Tempest looked from one to the other as if they were both crazy.

"No, I didn't."

Whatever had happened with her, she didn't remember it. That was obvious, but it was something to keep an eye on, Syrus thought. He didn't want her zoning out in the middle of battle or something, and if it came to it, he'd stick her somewhere safe, handcuff her to something and go get her later, if only for her own safety. She'd hate him, but it was better than having her go blank and end up getting killed.

"Come on," Syrus said. "Let's find out what's going on and get out of here."

Out in the hallway, the G-Army troops were searching for their missing buddies. Syrus drew his blade, glad to finally see some action.

"Intruders!" a soldier cried, and it was on.

Blade clashed against blade and the silence was shattered by the crack of gunfire as it ricocheted down the hall. On his left, Benji quickly disarmed a footsoldier without so much as a grunt. To his right, Tempest was engaged in fierce battle with a higher ranking soldier, and Syrus himself attacked the nearest offender, taking him down with ease.

Several more appeared in the hallway and all seemed to be low ranking grunts, judging by their uniforms. No big deal, Syrus thought to himself as he kicked aside a fallen soldier and moved on to the next.

Tempest let out a sudden howl, of both pain and rage, and Syrus was stunned to see her barrel down the hallway, as if to take on the rest by herself.

"Tempest!" he bellowed and went after her.

It was then he saw her do something he'd never seen before, something that was both amazing and scary at the same time.

With the grace of a dancer, Tempest lept into the air and spun around, combining a spin kick with a brutal, spiraling slice that took out three soldiers at once. She landed lightly and spun down into a crouch, taking a fourth down with a clean cut across the shins.

She'd executed the move so flawlessly and so quickly, it was hard to believe his own eyes.

Not even Benji could have executed an spin kick with a blade in his hands so perfectly, nor would the results have been so devastating. It was brilliant, but unexpected and Syrus couldn't help but wonder where she'd learned it. He'd never seen anything like it before, and he wondered why she hadn't showed it off in training. Typically, they shared new moves with one another, while sparring, hoping to one up-the other. He couldn't understand why she wouldn't want to show him what she'd been working on. A move like that would have ended him, hands down.

The remaining soldiers advanced on her but she was too fast. Before the could even get close, she spun on them, hitting one across the midsection and the other across the throat as she brought her blade around. She chased down the third, who had dropped his weapon, and pinned him to the wall by the throat.

Syrus held his breath, fully expecting Tempest to run him through and be done with it. Inwardly, he cringed as he picked up the discarded weapon. He could handle Tempest being on some kind of killing rampage, however, he might have had a problem with her killing an unarmed man just because she could. And he could tell she was having difficulty not actually doing it.

"Where's the girl?"

The soldier pointed, shaking so hard, Syrus could hear the kid's teeth knocking together. Syrus almost felt bad for him.

Tempest let him go.

"Get the hell out of here if you don't want me to kill you," she said.

The kid took off without having to be told twice.

"Holy shit," Syrus murmured to himself.

Whatever this was, wherever it had come from, it was scaring the hell out of him. This wasn't Tempest. No matter how intense she got while training, he had never seen this side of her, and it was getting scarier by the minute. He got the feeling that it wasn't all her doing, but if it wasn't her, then what was it?.

With all the soldiers subdued or dead, Syrus joined Tempest at the end of the hall, where she stood before the door to Studio A. She had that blank look again, and Syrus felt his heart start to pound. Whatever was going on, they were in deep, and Tempest seemed to be, somehow, right in the middle of it..

"Hey," he said. "The soldiers said Studio B is where the action is."

Tempest turned to Syrus and looked up at him, her blue eyes full of pain. Syrus wondered, for just a moment, if she'd been wounded, but a quick once over revealed no obvious injuries. Whatever was ailing her was internal.

"She's in here."

* * *

Tempest could feel the girl's quiet urging stronger now. She felt her fear and her anger and pain, and Tempest knew that if they didn't get to her soon, all hell would break loose. Tempest didn't know why, or what might happen if they failed, she just knew that the girl was in danger and needed help. Leaving without her was not an option.

"The soldiers said Studio B," Syrus insisted. "They said G-army was taking the cameras-"

"The cameras don't matter," Tempest said, cutting him off. "_She's_ the reason they're here, not the cameras. It's a diversion."

"She who?" Syrus demanded.

Tempest faltered. She who, indeed?

"I don't know," Tempest admitted. "I just know she's here and she needs help. So let's go."

Syrus put his hand on her shoulder and gave her a concerned once over. Tempest could tell that he was struggling with this decision, about whether to go with what the G-army had told them and trusting Tempest's intuition.

"And what if this 'she' is a Sorceress?"

"Then that's just one more reason to get her out of Galbadia's hands," Tempest said.

Syrus searched her face for a moment, and then let out a heavy, resigned sigh.

"I have a bad feeling about this," he said after a moment.

"Well, that makes two of us," Tempest said. "But its too late to turn back now, isn't it?"  
_  
Hurry, Tempest. Please, hurry._

"I'm coming," Tempest muttered out loud.

She put her hand on the doorknob and was about to turn it when the girl's fear overtook her.  
_  
No. Go in through the sound booth._

"Where's the sound booth?" Tempest asked.

"What?" Syrus asked.

He gave her a look that said he was concerned that she was cracking up but she pretended to ignore it. She had to at least give the appearnace of control, even if it wasn't quite true. She knew with some degree of certainty that Syrus would drag her out of there kicking and screaming if he felt that she was on the verge of losing it. Already, she was walking a very fine line and she was pretty sure it would only get finer as things progressed.

Well, maybe she was cracking up. After all, she was hearing a voice in her head. That wasn't exactly normal. Not unheard of, but not normal either. That didn't change the fact that she knew in her bones that there was a girl in danger behind those doors, and that she needed their help. How or why the girl had this kind of power over Tempest, Tempest didn't want to speculate. What she did know was that the girl was young and unable to defend herself, and that was enough of a reason to try and save her, no matter who or what she might be.

"We need to go in through the sound booth," Tempest said. "Where is it?"

"Your guess is as good as mine," Syrus said. "Why?"

"They won't be expecting us to come in that way," Tempest muttered. "And that's where they're hiding her."

Syrus laid his hand against her arm.

"You sure about this?"

There was a serious note in his voice that Tempest was unaccustomed to, but just by his tone, she knew he trusted her instincts. If this was instinct. All she knew was that she felt it in her gut.

"Positive."

"Okay," Syrus said. "Then let's do this."

* * *

Benji had a bad feeling about this from the moment Syrus had decided to go off their designated patrol route, and it seemed that the situation was deteriorating by the minute. There were Hyne knew how many G-army running around inside the building, and up to Hyne knew what, girl or no girl. They'd screwed up big time, and now Tempest was weirding out on them..

Tempest was getting weirder by the _second_. Already, he could see her eyes glazing over again, like she was going into a trance. She stopped in her tracks, her arms fell to her sides and her face went blank, just like earlier. Benji had never seen anything like it and it ws really, really starting to scare him.

He didn't know Tempest well. They had some of the same friends, and she sat at the same table at luch, but he didn't really know her that well. She'd never talked much. But, just like every other guy at Garden, he had a bit of a crush on her. Who wouldn't? She was every guy's fantasy girl. She was a knock out, she was kind of a badass, and an absolute mystery.

No one but Syrus really knew her, but Benji knew enough that this behavior wasn't typical Tempest.

"Syrus, she's gone again."

"What?"

"Tempest. She's blacked out again."

"Shit," Syrus muttered as he peered down at the girl.

"She's really creeping me out, man," Benji admitted.

"That makes two of us, chicken-wuss."

Normally, Benji would have been pissed at the use of the family nickname, but he was too spooked by zombie Tempest to be bothered by it. It was eerie to see her like that. Empty, as if she'd vacated her own body.

Tempest began to sway on her feet, not as if she were about to fall or pass out, but as if to music, slowly back and forth as if to a waltz no one could hear but her. It was almost too creepy to watch.

Syrus put his hands on her arms and a troubled look crossed his face as he tried to steady her.

Benji had never understood the relationship between them. When they'd started dating, Benji had been shocked. Tempest and Syrus had been the very definition of bitter rivals in every way. They traded blows and insults, tried to best one another in everything they did. If anything, his money had been on which would seriously injure the other first.

He could understand Syrus being attracted to Tempest. All the guys wanted her, all the girls wanted to be her, but Benji just couldn't fathom what it was Tempest saw in Syrus. He was loud, rude and pushy. Not to mention, he was an Almasy.

What had happened to break them up was still in question, but whatever it was, Benji was pretty sure it was Syrus' fault. He didn't blame Tempest one bit for not wanting to be around him.

Still, it surprised him a little to see Syrus' concern for Tempest's well being. Benji would have thought Syrus didn't really have it in him to care, but it was obvious that he did.

"Come on, baby," Syrus muttered as he cupped Tempest's face in his hands. "Come back to me."

"Maybe now's not the time to bring this up," Benji said, anxious to be on the move, "but I'm starting to think that this smacks of Sorceress."

Syrus' head snapped up and he looked at Benji as if he were crazy.

"What?"

"Look at her, man. She isn't there," Benji said. "The way she's swaying. It's what they described in Sorceress theory, when they were talking about posession. Your dad even-"

The look Syrus gave him made Benji shut his mouth and take a step back. The mention of Seifer Almasy and his involvement in the last Sorceress War was obviously a sore subject. Not to mention, Syrus was extremely protective of his father and would knock the crap out of anyone who spoke a word against him. It was for the best that Benji shut his mouth and got out of the way before he got hit.

"This is something else," Syrus insisted.

"How do you know?"

"I feel it."

Benji didn't know what he meant by that, but he was bothered by it. Either he was placing unwaranted faith in Tempest's untested instincts or he was following his own. Neither seemed a good idea. Benji wasn't even sure he trusted his own instincts, even if his gut was telling him that there was a whole lot more going on than there seemed. Even if his gut was telling him that if they were to go after this girl, everything he knew would be upended and turned inside out.

Never mind that Tempest wasn't really with them anymore. He didn't trust that this 'girl' had good intentions, even if Tempest seemed to believe she did. For all they knew, the girl was in cahoots with Galbadia. It could be some kind of set up. The whole thing felt like a repeat of what had happened to their parents years ago, and Benji didn't like it.

Well, maybe not exactly the same thing, but still. Involving the daughter of a Sorceress and the son of a Knight with _another_ Sorceress was just asking for trouble. For all Benji knew, being the kids of such a heritage made them even more susceptible to persuasion, and he didn't like that idea too much either.

Hyne, this was too complicated. It was making his head hurt.

"Let's just grab Tempest and get out of here, Sy. This is getting too weird."

Syrus shook his head and returned his attention to Tempest, who continued to sway as if enchanted by music that only she could hear.

Benji shook his head and glanced around. This was all too confusing and strange, and he had a bad feeling that if they waited around much longer, things were going to get ugly fast, and without Tempest, they might not make it out alive.

* * *

Cid had known that this particular mission was going to get complicated, that Galbadia was up to no good, but he hadn't been certain about whether or not they had posession of a Sorceress. For one thing, he thought he knew the location and status of the current Sorceresses, but it seemed a new power had emerged out of nowhere, and that prospect was terrifying. Where this 'girl' had come from and who was she? It was a total mystery. However, there was no denying that the SeeD candidates were dealing with something very powerful, and perhaps very dangerous. How else to explain what was happening with Tempest?

Cid had been listening in for the duration, keeping tabs on Tempest for reasons both professional and personal, and he was certain that things were about to spiral out of control. Whomever this 'girl' was, she had the ability to take control of Tempest, and that was unsettling for more than one reason. Tempest was a powerful fighter in spite of her small stature, and perhaps even more skilled than her father, but she also had a powerful ally in Syrus Almasy, even if the two were presently at odds. Wherever Tempest went, Syrus was going too. Their fates were entwined like none other before them. Not even their parents. Cid had seen their bond grow strong over the years, so strong that there was no separating them. To do so would be to destroy them both.

A sage, Cid was not, but he'd learned a thing or two over the years about how some people only had one road to walk, and he knew destiny when he saw it. He'd seen Squall's destiny back when he was a shy little boy with no friends. He'd known, just by looking at him, that Squall would be the one to lead Garden some day, even if no one else had seen it. And when Rinoa Heartilly came into the picture, Cid had known that she would be the one to show Squall what he was capable of.

There was so much of Squall in Tempest it was scary. The natural leader in her was more apparent than it had been in Squall, and at a much earlier age. Cid had no dobut that eventually, the name Tempest Leonhart would be just as important as her father's name to the annals of history. She was born for greatness. She was born to lead.

The trouble was, Cid wasn't certain of which side of the fence Tempest would fall on. If what he thought was going to happen actually transpired, it could go one of two ways. Either Tempest gave into the power trying to take control of her, or she took control of her own and fought back. He prayed that she had the strength to fight back, or else they were all doomed. There was much at stake, much that was riding on Tempest's slight shoulders, whether she knew it or not.

"Cid are you following this?" Quistis asked, sounding nervous for the first time since Cid had known her.

"Every word."

"We have to get them out of there, Cid. We can't risk-"

"If there's a Sorceress in there, we can't risk losing her, either. We must obtain custody of her, or risk facing another Sorceress war."

"Sir," Quistis said, sounding defeated and afraid. "Your orders?"

"Two teams on standy. Move on my orders."

Quistis hesitated for a moment.

"I don't mean to argue with you sir, but this is a little out of their depth."

"Agreed," Cid said.

"Then why are you waiting?"

"You were out of your depth once, too, my dear. Were you not?"

"One has nothing to do with the other!" Quistis cried.

"You're wrong. Everything in this world is connected," Cid said. "You of all people should know that."

Cid wanted to tell Quistis the truth, but now was not the time. Admitting what he knew over the communication system would cause a panic among those who were listening. Having Quistis question his authority in these matters was enough of a problem. Cid didn't need more. The truth would be known soon enough.

* * *

Tempest came out her trance fighting. The instant she realized that Syrus' hands were on her face, she slapped them away and gave him a rough shove. Syrus stepped back away, frustrated with both the situation he'd gotten them into and her reaction to him.

Hyne, when was she going to forgive him? Or at the very least stop acting as if she hated him? Syrus couldn't take the look in her eyes or the bitterness in her voice when she spoke to him. He could live with the idea of them not being together, but he didn't want her to be like this. For the thousanth time, he wished he hadn't done what he'd done.

"Why are we stopped?" she asked.

"You tell me," Syrus said. "You...went away again."

Tempest blanched. It was obvious now that she knew whatever was going on was affecting her in a physical way. Even if she didn't really know what was going on, she knew it was interfering with her ability to stay focused.

"How long was I gone?"

"A few minutes," Benji said.

Syrus cleared his throat. This whole thing was a mistake, and he had a bad feeling that they were going to die if they didn't get the hell out of there. Tempest was blacking out, hearing voices and he was pretty sure at this point, both he and Tempest were going to fail the exam, and that didn't sit well with him. He could deal with never becoming a SeeD. His parents would be pissed, but he knew his dad would be happy to have a little extra help with his growing fleet of fishing boats. Seifer had even been talking about starting a charter business to take tourists out on deep sea fishing excursions on the weekends. It would bore the hell out of Syrus, but at least he had _that_. Tempest didn't have anywhere else to go but Garden. He didn't want to be responsible for that.

"I think we should go back."

"Not an option," Tempest said.

"If we go back now, you might still pass the exam," Syrus said. "I'm probably done for, but you'll still have a chance."

"If I fail, I fail. I'll try again next semester."

"I'm not letting you risk getting killed over whatever's going on here. We're going back."

Tempest stared at him, her expression mutinous.

"Do whatever you want, Syrus. I'm going in. With or without you."

"You'd disobey my orders to save this girl? A girl you've never met?" Syrus asked.

"Yes."

"Tempest, it could be a trap," Benji said.

Syrus could tell Benji was anxious to be on the move, preferably away from here. For the first time, Syrus agreed with him.

"It isn't. I know it."

"Why is this so important to you?" Syrus demanded. "Why are you doing this?"

"She's here against her will, Syrus. They've taken her from her family. She's scared and alone and she doesn't understand what they want with her," Tempest said. "Do I really need a reason to help her?"

Syrus realized that she was right. If the girl had been taken away from her loved ones for nefarious purposes without consent, if she was in danger, then someone needed to act. Syrus just didn't understand why Tempest suddenly cared. It wasn't as if she was the type to give a damn about much, and certainly not about the welfare of strangers.

"You sure you want to do this?"

"Absolutely."

He heaved a sigh, shook his head.

"Lead the way."

* * *

The only way into the soundbooth from where they stood, other than through the main doors, was through the air vents. Tempest didn't know how she knew this, but she was certain that it was the only way to go. She took out her pocket knife, climbed onto Syrus' shoulders and unscrewed the grate that covered the opening to the air duct. Once the grate was free, she pulled herself up and into the duct, then instructed Syrus to give Benji a boost. Once Benji was inside, they each lent Syrus an arm and pulled him up inside.

Slowly, they crawled through the duct, Tempest leading them on instinct and without hesitation. It wasn't long before they found what they were looking for. A grate, identical to the one Tempest had opened in the hallway, afforded them a clear view of a room full of strange looking electronic equipment. Inside the room were three guards and a young brunette girl, her wrists bound by large metal bracelets and she was blindfolded with a strip of red fabric.

Tempest froze for a moment when she realized that the girl looked like...

Who did the girl remind her of?

What she could see of the girl's face was terribly, painfully familiar, but she couldn't understand why. Was it because the girl had been inside her head? Because now Tempest knew her?

Tempest signaled to the team to wait as she watched the activities in the room below. One guard stood at the door while the other two played Triad on a small desk. The girl sat on the floor, motionless, though in obvious discomfort. She couldn't have been more than ten years old, though no younger than seven or eight, and her wrists were so tightly bound by the bracelets that Tempest knew she must have been in pain.

She'd seen those bracelets before, though where she knew them from, she couldn't say. She knew what they were, though. Suppression bracelets, developed by Dr. Odine, to keep a Sorceress or skilled mage from casting magic. The sight of them made Tempest furious, and she didn't know why. All she knew was that she had to get the girl out of there and free her from whatever fate awaited her in Galbadia.

Syrus squeezed himself into the space next to Tempest so that he could see what was going on. Tempest heard him suck in his breath at the sight of the child below them.

"She's so young," he murmured.

Tempest could only nod. Too young. The idea of a child Sorceress was a terrifying thing. If that's what she was.

As if she'd heard them, the girl turned her face toward the grate. Even from a distance, Tempest could see she was a pretty girl. Dark hair, full lips, though the color of her eyes couldn't be seen because of the blindfold, but Tempest instinctively knew they were blue. One more thing she knew, but didn't know how she knew.  
_  
Please don't look up_, Tempest thought. _Don't let them know we're here._

Casually, the girl turned her head toward the guards who were playing cards, as if listening to their conversation. Tempest let out a breath she didn't even know she'd been holding. Beside her, Syrus did the same.

"What's going on," Benji asked from behind them.

"Quiet," Tempest ordered and inspected the grate.

In the hall, she'd been able to remove it with ease. This one was made the same way, where the face of the grate could be unscrewed from the outside for easy cleaning. Now they were on the inside and would not be able to reach. It presented a problem, but there had to be a way. to remove it from the inside. Besides blowing it to hell, that was.

She ran her fingers along the outside of the grate and discovered the bracket that held the grate in place could be removed from their side, though this was held in place by eight bolts, not screws. Syrus began working at the ones on his side while Tempest undid the ones on hers. It seemed like forever before Tempest removed the last bolt. She half expected the grate to fall into the middle of the room, but it stayed in place.

"You two take the guards. I'll get the girl," she said.

Tempest rose into a crouch and withdrew her blade, readying herself for battle.

"You've got a plan?" Syrus asked.

"Not really," Tempest admitted. "I'm just going to grab her and go."

"So who's going first?" Benji asked.

"I am," Tempest said, to Benji's obvious relief.

With that, she kicked in the grate and dropped into the room. All the guards looked at her in surprise but quickly withdrew their weapons.

Before she could snatch up the girl, the guard at the door was on her.

"Get her out of here," the guard bellowed to the two surprised soldiers.

The taller of the two grabbed the girl and took off, just as Syrus dropped into the room.

"I got this," Syrus said. "Just get the girl."

Tempest didn't wait for his approval. She launched herself toward the door, following the guard with deadly intent. There was no way she could leave here without the kid, and if it meant she'd have to take on the whole of Galbadia's forces, then she would.

Problem was, as soon as she entered the studio, she realized that she was in trouble. It truly looked as if the bulk of Galbadia's forces were concentrated here. There were too many for her to fight alone. Still, with single minded determination, she continued to pursue the man and the girl, trying her best to plow her way through the startled G-Army grunts in her path.

The guard and the girl disappeared through the double doors at the other end of the room. Tempest shoved a soldier out of her way and threw herself at those doors, only to discover they were locked. She cursed and tried again, but it they were secure.

"Going somewhere kid?" a voice behind her asked, low and menacing.

Tempest turned around slowly, realizing that she was trapped. Her mind quickly reviewed Garden's POW policy, in case they took her hostage rather than killed her. Truth be told, she'd rather die than be a prisoner in Galbadia. She'd heard stories about the conditions in Galbadia's prisons and about the terrible things they did to their captives. Her own father had been tortured during his stay in D-District. No doubt, they'd torture her too. One, because she'd tried to steal away an item of value, and two, simply because she was a Leonhart.

One of the higher ranking officers reached out and seized her arm. Tempest balled up her fist and punched him in the face and followed up with a knee to the groin, then withdrew her blade to take on anyone else who wanted to brawl. If she had to die, she was going to die fighting.

In an instant, it became full-on chaos. Tempest fought wildly, praying for death, praying for a rescue, praying for anything but what she knew awaited her. It couldn't end like this. The girl had been counting on her. The others had trusted her. She was going to fail the mall.

As she fought them, she felt something like panic start to build inside of her, like a slow boil. Then it turned to rage.

She let out a scream and began to swing wildly on the soldiers that surrounded her. Some of them, she hit. Some she didn't, but she felt herself losing control.

Then, Tempest Leonhart's world cracked.

* * *

A/N: Thanks to those that took the time to read so far.....and I know you are.....so if you are one of those people following this story, please don't forget to leave a review if you haven't yet.


	6. Fate in the Balance

**HISTORY NEVER REPEATS**  
_A FFVIII Second Generation Fan Fiction_

* * *

_"Remember my words, I may again return,  
I love you, I depart from materials  
I am as one disembodied, triumphant, dead."_  
~from _So Long_, Walt Whitman

* * *

**CHAPTER FOUR**

Having dispatched the two soldiers, who were tougher fighters than he'd anticipated, Syrus stepped out into the studio, Benji close behind him. At the far end of the room, Tempest was surrounded by no less than twelve G-Army grunts. He could see that she fought like a champ, but she was no match for that many. Syrus himself wouldn't have been able to hold off that many alone.

Without hesitating, Syrus jumped over the railing, weapon drawn. He hit the floor running, but was knocked to his feet by a powerful, white hot shockwave that tore through the room like a nuclear blast. As it washed over him, Syrus felt the sting of a thousand electric pin pricks under his skin. He let out an involuntary cry and tried to get up, just as a second shockwave hit him. This time he stayed down, waiting for it to end.

A third, forth and fifth blast tore through the room, one after another until Syrus lost count. This was magic he'd never seen before, but whatever it was, was unbelieveably powerful. With each shockwave, it felt as if the room around him was imploding, as if all the molecules in his body were being re-arranged then forcibly put back together. It was the most unsettling and most painful thing he'd ever felt in his life.

It seemed an eternity before he realized that the air around him had calmed and then there was absolute silence in the room. He got to his feet, quickly cured himself and surveyed the situation.

At the far end of the room, Tempest stood slumped against the wall, surrounded by a sea of fallen G-Army soldiers. Not a one of them moved in the aftermath of the unidentified magic, but it was clear every last one of them had fallen victim to it.

Hyne, almighty. Had Tempest been responsible for this?

No. It wasn't possible. Tempest may have been an incredible fighter, but she was no mage. In fact, Syrus could count on one hand the number of times she'd actually used magic in his presence, and it had never been very effective. For whatever reason, Tempest Leohart had an aversion to magic. She had for as long as he'd known her.

But there she stood, a semi-circle of dead around her. If she hadn't been the one casting it, why was she the only one still standing?

Syrus shook off his questions and jogged to her side. It didn't matter right now. What mattered was getting out of here in one piece.

"You okay?" he asked as he approached, fearing he'd see that same vacant look he'd seen before.

While she did look dazed, she wasn't gone, and to Syrus, this was a relief. She gave him a slight nod and gazed up at him through unfocused eyes.

"Can you walk?"

Tempest pushed away from the wall, swayed and slid gracelessly to the floor. Syrus crouched in front of her and took her face between his hands. Whatever happened had drained every last bit of strength she had left. Syrus didn't pretend to understand what was going on, or how any of this had happened. There was no point trying to figure it all out when there were other matters to deal with.

"What the hell was that?" Benji asked as he knelt beside Syrus.

"Don't know."

"What kind of magic was that?"

"I don't know."

"What's wrong with her?"

"Will you shut up?" Syrus snapped.

"Maybe we should get out of here, hunh?" Benji said, ignoring Syrus' request.

"Good idea," Syrus said, turning to survey the room.

To his left, he spied a discarded machine gun. He kicked it toward Benji.

"I'm going to have to carry her," Syrus said, "so cover us, okay?"

Benji picked up the gun and looked at it as if it were diseased.

"What, my fists aren't good enough for you?"

"If the enemy approaches, just point and shoot," Syrus said.

With that, he returned his attention to Tempest, who looked as if she were on the ragged edge of exhaustion. He leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss on her forehead. He didn't care if it pissed her off. He loved her and wanted to offer her what comfort he could, even if it wasn't welcome.

"I lost her," Tempest murmured.

"It's okay."

"She was counting on me, and I lost her."

Syrus wiped her sweat dampened hair from her forehead and kissed her cheek. Seeing her like this was heartbreaking.

"Shh. We'll talk about it later," he breathed as he scooped her up into his arms.

It was easy to forget that Tempest was a small girl, but in his arms, it was clear that she was much smaller than she seemed. She felt fragile, breakable, in his arms, and that scared Syrus more than anything else that had happened today. It didn't change the fact that she was tougher, stronger, and more corageous than anyone he'd ever met, but it did remind him that she wasn't immortal. She could fall just as easily as anyone.

And if Tempest could fall, the so could Syrus.

* * *

Benji shot the lock of the studio door and lead the way out. For the first time that day, he felt important, but he knew it was only because Syrus and Tempest were otherwise incapacitated. At least it gave him something to do, other than follow them around, worrying that at any moment they'd be captured or killed.

He still didn't understand what had happened back there. He'd never seen that kind of magic before. Even from a distance, it had wounded him and he couldn't imagine how Tempest had survived it, when the Galbadian soldiers had not.

One thing was clear to him, however. Syrus loved Tempest. There wasn't any doubt of that, and Benji was glad. It somehow gave him hope to know that Tempest wasn't just a conquest for Syrus. And if a guy like Syrus could love someone else, then maybe the world wasn't as crazy as it seemed.

It wasn't hard to find their way back to the main corridor, but when he arrived at the intersection that would lead them out, he heard footsteps, then voices.

Benji signaled for Syrus to wait, but he was already stopped. He'd heard the voices too. Gingerly, Syrus set Tempest down and drew his blade.

"Wait right here," he commanded, as if Tempest was going to suddenly get up and walk away on her own. Tempest could barely keep her eyes open, let alone stand.

"Could be more," Syrus said.

"I'm aware of that," Benji replied.

Benji slid toward the intersection peered around the corner, his grip tightning on the machine gun. To his surprise, it wasn't more G-Army but the SeeD Medic Unit and a team of SeeDs and candidates. Among them, he spotted Cedra Almasy, Syrus' little sister, who was also participating in the exam. Benji was betting that Cedra had a much easier time than he had.

He let out a breath and turned to Syrus.

"Reinforcements. We're okay."

Benji stepped out into the hall and signaled to them that he was with SeeD, just so there was no confusion.

"Benji!" Cedra cried when she spotted him. "Where's my no-good brother? He didn't take off on you, did he?"

"No, he's here," Benji assured her.

Syrus had gone back to Tempest's side and Benji noticed, with dismay, that Tempest seemed to be gone again. Then he realized she wasn't gone, exactly, but she wasn't quite there, either. Her lips were moving and she was singing softly to herself, her voice sounding very much like a child's.

It was a lullaby. Something Benji had learned as a kid, in Sunday school. It was supposed to be a child's nightime prayer.

"_The darkness is there to teach us to love the light. There is nothing to fear in the black of the night. Hyne loves us and keeps us from harm. We are his children, he keeps us safe and warm....."_

It was eerie enough to raise goosebumps along Benji's arms. Eerie because Tempest never sang, and because it sounded nothing like her. Not to mention, that particular song had always creeped him out, even when he was a kid.

"Oh, my," Cedra said when she saw the sorry shape Tempest was in. "What happened?"

"Long story," Syrus said. "I'm fine, by the way. Thanks for asking."

Cedra rolled her eyes and looked at Benji. "Anyway, we have new orders."

"I'm the captain," Syrus said. "Why are you looking at him?"

"Oh, sorry," Cedra said.

At that moment, the Medic team pushed Syrus out of the way and surrounded Tempest, who continued to sing that same verse over and over again.

"Hey!" Syrus protested. "She's not injured, she's just-"

"We know what we're doing," one of the medics said. "Let us handle this."

"Come on, Syrus," Benji said. "She's in good hands. We've got great medics, remember?"

Syrus took a deep breath and then nodded.

"So what were those orders?" he asked.

"We're to withdraw and assemble at the train station ASAP."

"Thank Hyne," Benji muttered.

"What are you guys doing here, anyway?" Cedra asked.

"Ask him," Benji said. "He's the captain."

* * *

"What _exactly_ did you hope to accomplish by going off your patrol route, Syrus?" Quention demanded once they were on the train back to Balamb. "Do you even _realize_ what you've done?"

Syrus had a headache and he was too concerned with what was going on with Tempest to care what Quenton thought. Tempest was still in the care of the Medics, and no one had reported back yet, and that was making him nervous.

"You put your whole team in danger. You knowingly disobeyed orders. You could have gotten all of us killed. Do you know that?"

"Yes, I know that," Syrus fired back. "What do you want from me?"

"I want an explanation!"

"Well, I don't have one to give you."

Quenton scowled at him and threw his hands up in the air.

"Well, you're going to have to explain it to the Headmaster. You'll be lucky if you don't end up in the brig for this."

"You think I care?" Syrus asked. "My instincts were right. That's what really bothers you, isn't it?"

"You'll never be a SeeD, Syrus," Quenton said. "You've just blown your last chance."

Syrus crossed his arms and leaned back into the seat. Quenton was right. He'd failed the exam, gotten Tempest into this mess and now she might not ever be all right. He wouldn't be able to live with himself if she never came back from this. Even if they never got back together, he still wanted her to be as she was.

"The hell with being a SeeD if it means I can't ever think for myself," Syrus said evenly. "The hell with it if it means I have to be like _you_."

His comment hit Quenton where it hurt most. He was a shadow of his mother's greatness and he knew it. All he had ever done was posture and lord his superior intellect over the rest of them, all the while acomplishing nothing of significance.

If he hadn't blown it before, Syrus was fairly certain that this last statement would be the one to do him in. He didn't even care. He didn't care that his mother would tear him limb from limb once she found out.

Nothing really mattered to him except Tempest. And Hyne help him if she wasn't all right.

* * *

Cid and Quistis had been discussing the future of the three candidates at length and still hadn't ironed everything out. They agreed on the fact that Benji had passed, but they were still on the fence about the other two. There were reasons to fail the both of them. Syrus because he'd disobeyed orders and left the patrol area, and Tempest for refusing to follow Syrus' orders later in the mission.

Typically, that would have been enough to fail them both, however this situation wasn't exactly typical. It wasn't every day a candidate was in touch with a potential Sorceress. Cid felt that if Tempest had not been a participant in today's exam, they would not have known about the girl. Syrus might have gone into the TV station anyway, but Squad B might well have died there. It was fate that Tempest was in the right place at the right time, and without that, the mission would have been a complete failure.

There were things about Tempest Leonhart, and by extension, Syrus Almasy that Quistis didn't know, and Cid was trying to convince her that Garden needed both of them, without revealing what he knew. Had the situation been different, Cid would have agreed, both deserved to fail, but they would need _both _of them if they hoped to change the course of fate. The girl, Ophelia was her name, had become a priority for just about everyone who knew about her. Galbadia had her. Esthar wanted her, and Garden needed her.

The fact remained: without Tempest, they might not ever find the girl, but without Syrus, Tempest might stray off course. They were a packaged deal. One was useless without the other.

Convincing Quistis of this was another matter. She was willing to let Tempest pass, but not Syrus. Even after they'd met with all three candidates and heard their testimony, Quistis remained unconvinced.

Tempest, though weary, had given them a chilling account of what had happened, and had taken most of the responsibility for their actions. Not Syrus' initial decision to stray, but for everything that happened thereafter. She'd also informed them that had Syrus not decided to leave their designated patrol area, the girl would still have gotten Tempest's attention, and that she would have followed regardless of Syrus' decision.

Cid knew that if Tempest had gone in first, Syrus would have followed.

Which meant, they would have ended up there anyway.

"Before you condemn him, Quistis, we need to consider that Syrus took the appropriate action based on the situation. Even Benji agreed that Syrus took the proper course of action, even if he didn't necesarialy agree in the beginning," Cid said.

Syrus and Benji had never really gotten along, so there was no reason to assume that Benji was covering for Syrus. If anything, Benji Dincht had every reason in the world to want Syrus gone. Quistis knew this, too.

Cid understood that Quistis' reasons for not wanting Syrus to pass were more personal than practical, which was rare for the pragmatic instructor. She seldom let personal matters cloud her reason, but in the case of Syrus Almasy, Quistis was guilty of bias. Cid knew it had more to do with Seifer than anything else. Quistis feared that Syrus might walk the same road Seifer had, but Cid knew failing Syrus wasn't the answer. Expelling Syrus from Garden might very well be the thing that lead him down that path, and Cid knew he'd take Tempest along with him.

"I'm sorry. I know I'm being judgemental. I just can't help worrying that he's going to end up like his father."

"That's exactly what I'm trying to avoid," Cid said. "Besides, Syrus is not his father."

"Thank Hyne for that," Quistis said with a roll of her eyes. "However, I just don't know if I can in good conscience give him my stamp of approval after a third incident."

Cid sighed and shook his head. Quistis could be very stubborn in her own way.

"I understand your position, Quistis," Cid said, "but Syrus did very well, given the position he was in."

"How can you say that? He did the exact same thing Seifer did."

"No, he did _not_," Cid countered. "Need I remind you, Seifer took off on his own mission, leaving his team to fend for themselves. Syrus did _not _abandon his team to pursue his own agenda. He stuck by them and fought with them. There is a world of difference between the two. Yes, he got himself into this situation by disobeying orders, however, he followed through and made sure his team got out alive! How can you even compare them?"

"Calm down," Quistis said. "I understand all that. I'm just not sure Syrus is cut out to be a SeeD."

Cid thought differently. Syrus was capable of becoming a strong leader one day, though he wasn't quite there yet. He was intelligent, charming, charismatic, and was one of Garden's strongest fighters. They could not afford to lose him. Not now.

"I know what you're thinking, Cid. I can read you like a book," Quistis said. "Out with it."

"We have to pass them. All of them."

"Tempest, yes," Quistis agreed. "Syrus, no."

"They're a packaged deal," Cid said. "If we fail Syrus, I guarantee you, Tempest will leave with him. Do you really think we can just throw away two of our brightest, just because you're not willing to bend the rules?"

"Passing them means that future candidates will think they can disobey orders and still pass."

"This is a special circumstance, Quistis, and you know it. All in all, they did the right thing," Cid insisted. "You of all people should know how circumstances can change with the wind. They showed a remarkable tenacity for being able to improvise. They're not machines, and I for one am proud of that rather than irritated by it."

"Fine," Quistis said, obviously exhaused. "They pass. Just don't complain to me when the next batch of them follow Squad B's lead and end up in trouble."

"So you concede?"

Quistis threw up her hands.

"Yes! Fine. Pass them," she said. "And I truly hope I get to say I told you so."

"If what I think is going to happen actually does, you won't need to."

* * *

In the morning, Syrus went looking for Tempest. He knocked lightly on her door, but there was no answer and not a sound from inside. He hoped she was asleep, but he had a feeling she wasn't.

He found her in the Training Center, practicing the bizarre moves he'd seen the day before. Now that he had a moment to appreciate them for what they were, he realized the genius of it. It was ballet with a blade. Somehow, she'd integrated dance, martial arts and acrobatics with a series of devastating attacks that would be almost impossible to block. With moves like that, she'd be unstoppable and he half wished he'd been the one to come up with them, but he could never hope to be that graceful, no matter how hard he tried.

When she stopped for a moment to rest, Syrus approached casually.

"So, what's with these new tricks of yours?"

Tempest just shrugged.

"Thought you'd be taking it easy after yesterday."

"Not a chance."

She sounded tough, but she looked exhausted. Syrus wished she'd slept in for once. Between the gash on her forehead and the dark circles under her eyes, she looked like hell. Still beautiful, but also haggard. Syrus was fairly certain she could have used more rest, but Tempest was never one to take it easy. It was one of the reasons _he_ had to train so hard. If he hadn't, she would have surpassed him in skill years ago.

"Wanna talk about it?" he asked, knowing that she wouldn't.

He'd have to drag it out of her, and that's exactly what he planned to do.

"No," was the expected answer.

Syrus paused and kicked at a rock near his shoe. He hated himself for making her hate him.

"So when did you learn all this new stuff?"

"Been working on it for a couple of months," she said with a shrug.

"Why didn't you use it on me the other night?" he asked. "You seemed pretty intent on taking me out. That spin slice thing would have done it, you know."

"Maybe I didn't want to kill you, Sy."

Well, that was something. A glimmer of hope. An admission that his untimely demise wouldn't make her year.

"Then what did you want? Just to maim me?"

"I don't know what I wanted."

Syrus watched her for a moment. He could tell something was troubling her, though her expression gave nothing away. He knew her well enough to know when she was bothered by something, even if it didn't show. To anyone else, she would appear calm, collected and focused, but Syrus could sense her concern. He saw through all of her masks.

Most of the time, anyway. There were still moments when he couldn't read her, and it unsettled him when he couldn't.

He wondered if she was still fretting over the girl. If so, it was unlike her to worry this much.

Or maybe it was just the not knowing. Everything that had happened yesterday remained a mystery, and it must have been upsetting to know that she could be controled by someone else.

Maybe, she was worried she hadn't passed the exam.

If he knew Tempest half as well as he thought, it was all of the above.

"What about the magic?" he asked. "You been sitting on that too?"

Tempest let out a breath and shook her head.

"I don't know where that came from."

"You're not exactly a first rate mage. Hell, I don't think you could even cast a low level fire spell to save your life."

Tempest flashed him a look but kept her silence. A remark like that should have gotten, at the very least, a biting response.

Nothing.

"If it was you, then what was it and where did you get it?"

"I don't know."

Tempest twirled her blade around, one handed. It struck Syrus as odd. He'd never seen her do that before. Griever was a heavy blade, and it was meant to be weilded with two hands. It occured to him that these new moves of hers required her to use it one-handed as well, which was difficult with a two handed blade. Especially one as hefty as her father's sword.

"I was surrounded. I started to panic. It just....happened," she finally said.

"So it was you."

Tempest nodded.

"Hyne, almighty, Tempest," Syrus breathed. "That's...really scary."

"Tell me about it."

"If I didn't know better, I'd say you were the perfect weapon. Crazy acrobatic moves. Insanely powerful magic. Gorgeous face -"

"Here we go," she said with a roll of her eyes. "Look. It is what it is. Maybe a limit break I didn't know about. Probably a one time deal, won't happen again."

_Or the beginning of something_, Syrus thought to himself.

"So, what now?" he asked.

"We wait. Nothing else we can do."

"I meant us."

"There is no us. It was a mistake."

That stung. He hoped she didn't really mean it.

"You and I were not a mistake."

"It was fun while it lasted, Sy," Tempest said. "But it's over, and it _was_ a mistake."

Syrus wasn't having it. She could say what she wanted about him, but he knew in his heart that they were no mistake. They were meant to be together, and she should have known it too. She should have felt it. He knew that she did feel it, she was just too wounded to admit to it.

"Stop saying that!" Syrus said, furious. "You listen to me, Tempest, and you listen good: We were _not_ a mistake. Even if you never speak to me again, I will never believe that you and I shouldn't have happened. You are the best thing in my life and no matter _what_ happens, there will never be anyone in this world who gets me like you do, and there will never be anyone I love as much as I love you!"

Tempest, strong, unbelievable, stoic Tempest burst into tears at that and turned away from him.

He hadn't meant to make her cry, but it was more powerful a reaction than he'd expected. He'd wanted her to scream back at him, to fight him, not this. He couldn't remember ever seeing her cry, and the idea that he'd been the one to do it made him feel like the world's biggest jerk.

"Geez," he muttered. "I'm sorry."

"Just go away."

"Take it back," he whispered.

"I'm not telling you what you want to hear," she sniffled. "Don't make me a liar."

"Then look me in the eye and tell me you don't love me anymore," he said. "If you can do that, then I'll leave you alone, okay?"

"Syrus, _go away_," she said.

"Look me in the eye and tell me that you don't love me!"

Tempest spun around, her face flushed, eyes burning with rage, even as tears rolled down her cheeks.

_"I don't love you!"_

The instant the words left her mouth, a powerful bolt of lightning streaked through the room and struck the tree directly behind Syrus. Flames shot out from the upper branches and electricity sizzled in the air. Syrus could feel all the hairs on his arms stand up.

There was a loud crack, and Syrus barely jumped out of the way as a burning branch crashed down on the very spot where he'd been standing. Had he not moved, he would have been lit up like Deling City.

"Was that you?" he asked in disbelief.

Tempest shrugged.

"I thought you _didn't_ want me dead!"

"Please, just go," she whispered. "I can't do this right now."

Syrus decided it was best not to argue, or else she might actually hit him with a bolt of lightning, or something worse, like the magic he'd felt yesterday. He turned on his heel and left her there next to the burning tree with tears running down her face. Every molecule in his body screamed him to stay, but he knew it wasn't wise. She needed to be left alone, and there was nothing else he could do for her but do as she'd asked. He didn't like it, but it was the best he could do.

He didn't believe that she didn't love him anymore, even though she'd said it to his face. For just a second, he'd seen something in her eyes that told him it wasn't true. Even if she believed it, it wasn't true. She was just still too hurt and too angry to admit otherwise, and Syrus was just going to have to wait it out. It might even have more to do with the odd situation they'd found themselves in than her actual feelings.

Something seriously weird was going on. Something he wasn't able to explain This sudden strength. The crazy-powerful magic. None of that was her. Was all this tied to the girl or was it something else? Syrus wasn't sure. The idea that this was the girl's doing seemed unlikely. However, the idea that Tempest had suddenly developed the ability to cast powerful magic seemed just as unlikely and he didn't buy the limit break theory, either.

Worse, he couldn't help but feel as if they'd gotten in over their heads, and now they were going to have to claw their way back out.

Or die trying.

* * *

A/N:

It's a double header, folks. Not only do you get a new chapter here, there's also a new chapter of _I Hate Everything About You _(co-authored with Wench of Diablos) up today. If you haven't checked it out yet, take a look....we're very proud of it.

Sooo....lots of changes here. All of this is new material. While I will be using quite a bit of the original post in upcoming chapters, the story has become a lot more complicated with the addition of 'the girl' aka Ophelia. I won't explain why yet, as I don't want to spoil the story for new readers, but the answer will become clear in the next few chapters. And, no I have not deleted any of the old characters from the story, though their role will be expanded beyond just supporting cast/scenery. I think that was one of the mistakes I made with the first version of this story. Most of the characters were pretty much in the background, with the exception of Tempest, Syrus and Quenton (and a handful of others). In this new version, most of them will have a voice-particularly a few of the as yet unmentioned characters.

I realize at this stage that Second Geneartion fics do not get a lot of readers, however, I've noticed that people are reading, and I'm grateful. To my long time fans and new readers, I thank you for sticking with me through my periodic disappearances, tendency to start stories that I never finish (demand for continuation on some of them is interestingly high-three in particular come to mind-one of them may actually be updated, though I'll make no promises as of yet) and personal dramas. In all honesty, I'm kind of surprised that this particular fandom is still thriving, so thank you for staying around and giving me a reason to do this.

Don't forget to leave a review.....


	7. Just a Kiss

**HISTORY NEVER REPEATS  
_A Final Fantasy VIII Second Generation Fan Fiction_**

* * *

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"...I will sleep no more but arise  
You oceans that have been calm within me!  
How I feel you, fathomless, stirring,  
preparing unprecedented waves and storms..."  
~From _Starting from Paumanok (18)_, Walt Whitman_

* * *

**CHAPTER FIVE**

It was the moment of truth. Squad B was about to find out their fate, and Tempest couldn't have been more nervous. Her anxiety was further compounded by the new method of delivering scores. Instead of making a group announcement, the teams had been called into the classroom, team by team, to meet with the headmaster, and Commander Trepe. So far only one candidate had emerged victorious. The rest had left quietly, their heads hung in shame. Tempest wondered, which category would she fall into? The odds were, it would be the second.

She'd heard from some of the other candidates that, for the most part, the mission had been a failure. It was mostly due to the confusion of the Gabadians heading into the TV station versus the supposed assault on the city. In that confusion, the Squads had strayed from patrol routes, misunderstood orders and it had to lead to some confrontation among team members. It sounded awfully familiar, and it didn't bode well for Tempest or her squad.

Word had spread quickly about what had happened, particularly what had happened with Squad B. Tempest had felt their stares and tried valiantly to ignore the whispers. She was certain that, by now, the stories going around were wildly exaggerated and twisted out of proportion. She could only imagine the kind of tales circulating, giving the student body en masse another reason to avoid her. After all, who wanted to be involved with someone who had potentially been possessed by a Sorceress?

Tempest glanced at Syrus across the hallway, watching him pace back and forth in his own anxiety. This was the end of the line for him and he knew it. Tempest could live with her fate. She still had a couple of chances left, but Syrus would be finished at Garden if he failed. He was too good a fighter to lose, but if he failed, Tempest told herself it was his own fault. Part of her hoped he did pass, but she realized it would be some kind of miracle if he made it.

Rescue Squad C emerged from the classroom, all but Cedra Almasy looking forlorn.

"I'm a SeeD, baby!" Cedra cried as she stepped out into the corridor.

Cedra spotted Syrus and threw her arms around her older brother's neck. Syrus gave her a brotherly hug and a congratulations.

Tempest couldn't help but notice the look on his face as he embraced his sister. He was smiling but his eyes betrayed him. He was proud of Cedra, certainly, but he also looked defeated, and it almost broke Tempest's heart. In spite of everything, Syrus had truly wanted to be a SeeD, and not only to make his parents proud. He wanted it for himself, too.

Tempest had known that all along.

"Squad B," Cid said from the doorway, "Come in. Have a seat."

They filed in and sat as instructed, each waiting anxiously for their respective fates. Benji looked as if he was about to cry, and Syrus looked like someone had just sucker punched him in the gut. Tempest was the only calm one.

Whatever the news was, Tempest could handle it. They would get what they deserved.

"Thank you for waiting," Commander Trepe said. "As you know, this has not be an easy decision for us. The headmaster and I debated for a good part of the night about how to handle this, being that this mission was an absolute failure on all levels."

The Commander might as well have stuck a knife in Tempest's chest. She didn't need any more reminders that she'd failed the girl. She was still feeling horribly guilty that she hadn't been able to catch up with the bastard who took her. Part of her knew that wasn't what the Commander meant, but it didn't change the way she felt.

"With any mission, however, there are times when the lines aren't so clear," the Commander said. "Sometimes instinct is all you have to go on, and sometimes, merely following orders isn't enough. It's very difficult to assign grades when everything goes wrong, like it did yesterday. We thought this was a run of the mill situation and it turned out to be something very different.

"I'm not going to lecture," the Commander continued. "The three of you know that these are unusual circumstances and that we had to adjust our typical method of scoring to suit the situation. Had this been a typical mission, Benji would have been the only one of your group to pass. However, there was nothing typical about it, so we've been forced to ignore certain actions and decisions in order to assess your scores."

"On the whole," Cid said, "the three of you did well, if we don't factor in both Syrus and Tempest's failure to obey orders. In fact, of all our candidates, the three of you scored the highest, Tempest in particular, based on leadership and overall skill, and we did take that into consideration when we made our decision," Cid said. "And we do understand that whether or not the initial orders were followed, the end result would have been the same because of the girl's power over Tempest."

Syrus sent a sidelong glance at Tempest but said nothing. Tempest hadn't told him the girl would have contacted her regardless. Was he now realizing that perhaps Tempest might have broken rank first if he had held back a little longer? Was he now kicking himself for being too impulsive? Tempest was betting so. Had he not chosen the path he did, she would be the only one on the hot seat right now. He would have passed with the highest of marks.

"Instinct and the ability to think on one's feet is something we encourage here," Cid continued. "If not for your actions, we would not have known about Galbadia's real intent until it was too late. The three of you are to be commended for being able to change direction at a moment's notice and for following through with a course of action, even if it wasn't a Garden issued directive. Therefore, I'm am pleased to say that the three of you have passed."

"Just barely," Commander Trepe added.

Tempest glanced at Syrus. The surprise on his face was plain to see. He hadn't thought they'd show him any mercy.

"Congratulations. The three of you are now SeeDs."

* * *

Syrus couldn't believe that he'd passed the exam. He'd gone into that room expecting to be told to pack his things and leave before sundown. In fact, he'd spent much of his time today preparing for that eventuality. He'd even started boxing up his belongings This development was as unexpected as Tempest's sudden talent for bizarre and powerful magic. He almost wanted to question it, but he kept his mouth shut and accepted his final score. He didn't even care that he'd only been ranked at level three. He was a SeeD, and that was good enough for him.

"Yeah, baby!" Benji cried as they left the classroom. "We made it!"

Syrus was fairly certain they all should have been thrown in the brig, but Cid must have had his reasons for passing them. Perhaps it had been Tempest's admission that the girl would have taken control sooner or later, regardless of where they were.

Syrus had to wonder about that. If he'd hesitated in the alley, if he'd gone along with the orders he'd been given, would Tempest have suddenly, inexplicably taken off? If she had, there was no doubt in his mind that he would have followed her, even if he hadn't understood what was going on.

If he'd waited just a few more moments, things might be much, much different.

Syrus refused to dwell on that fact. What was done was done and he was a SeeD. For Syrus, that was enough.

Still, it bothered him to know that the girl would have had power over Tempest either way. That bothered him more than anything. It meant that no matter where she was, the girl might be able to control Tempest, just like his own father had been controlled by Ultimecia. He had a feeling that this would not be the last time they heard from the girl, and that bothered him too. What if Tempest was wrong about her? What if she wasn't just an innocent victim? The idea that Tempest could be lured in scared him because he knew that wherever Tempest went, regardless of orders, Syrus was going too. That's just the way it was.

Now was no time to ponder all this. Let the people who were paid to worry be the ones to worry about it. After all, Syrus had some celebrating to do.

He put his hand on Tempest's shoulder and gave it a squeeze as they left the classroom. As he expected, she brushed it away, but instead of looking angry, she looked troubled. Syrus picked up on her tension, and he wasn't sure where it came from.

"Why aren't you happy?" Syrus asked.

"I am. I'm just surprised."

"Me too," he said honestly. "I thought for sure they'd tell me to not let the door hit me."

That coaxed a half smile out of her, but she said nothing.

Hyne, he missed her smile.

"Go to the Ball with me," he blurted out.

"I'm not going."

"What?" Benji cut in before Syrus could. "You have to go! It's gonna be great. Hotdogs, champagne, a band. You don't really want to miss all that, do you?"

"Hyne knows, the hotdogs make it _all_ worth it," Tempest said drily.

Benji looked hurt, and Syrus almost felt bad for him. After all, Benji meant well. Even if he was a chicken-wuss.

"We're just trying to get you to relax a little. Have a good time, you know?" Syrus said. "You used to know how to do that."

"You used to know how to be decent," Tempest fired back.

Syrus took a deep breath and closed his eyes. Why did everything have to be an argument with her? Why did she have to turn everything around on him? He'd said he was sorry. What more could she want from him?

In the end, Syrus knew that she wouldn't stay angry forever. Eventually, she would forgive him. He had enough faith in their love to be certain that they weren't doomed, even if Tempest denied him now. She just needed time, that was all. And if that was what she needed, he'd give it to her.

"It would be really cool if you came," Benji said carefully. "It wouldn't be the same without you."

"We'll see," Tempest said.

That was the best they were going to get out of her. She'd either be there or not, and there was nothing Syrus or Benji could say or do to convince her

"Come on, Dincht," Syrus said. "Let's go see if Kinneas can get us some celebratory booze."

Benji looked surprised to be included, but he gave an eager nod.

"See you around, Tempest."

* * *

Tempest ended up going to the ball anyway. Cedra had showed up an hour before the party started and had badgered Tempest into it, even though Tempest insisted that she didn't want to go. Cedra was unrepentant and relentless.

"Maybe you're just trying to avoid running into my brother."

"That too."

"I know you took the break up pretty hard, but don't let my stupid brother screw up what might be the best night of our lives!" Cedra said. "I mean, you never know. Your knight in shining armor might be there, just like that story about how your parents met. Except, if you don't go, you'll never meet him, and there would be no happy ending."

The mention of Tempest's parents and how they met was like a dagger to the heart. She didn't like thinking about that story, no matter how romantic others might consider it.

"Their story didn't have a happy ending, either," Tempest pointed out.

Cedra rolled her eyes, and it was clear to Tempest that Cedra felt she'd missed the point.

"You are the _least_ romantic person I've ever met in my life, Tempest Leonhart," Cedra said.

Tempest had sighed and slumped over into her pillow. What she really wanted was to curl up and go back to sleep and forget all about the last two days. Maybe even the last few months. She closed her eyes and hoped Cedra would get the hint, but she didn't.

"Get up and get dressed," Cedra commanded.

"I'm not going."

"Yes, you are."

"No, I'm not."

"Yes you are!"

"This is one of those things where you're not going to leave me alone until I give in, isn't it?"

"Yep."

"You're just like your brother, you know that?"

Cedra scowled. "Don't compare me to him. Now _get up_. I'll do your hair and make up."

Now Tempest was standing against a pillar in the ball room, watching everyone have a good time as she sipped her second glass of champagne. She hated everything about this. Her uniform skirt was too short and she'd had to try to ignore comments about her legs and figure from drunken young men who should have known better. She felt self conscious and silly and it was hard to repress the urge to maim each young man that dared eye her with interest.

Cedra bringing up Tempest's parents had conjured up their ghosts. Tempest couldn't stop thinking about them. It was in this very ball room that they had met for the first time. Edea had told her the story when she was little and it seemed too much like a fairy tale to be believed. Even now Tempest could scarcely believe that it had really happened like that. Edea had called it fate. Destiny.

Tempest had a hard time believing in fate and destiny. It seemed so impractical and silly to believe in something that sounded so out of control. Tempest didn't like the idea of not being in control of herself. She believed that she alone made her luck and she was in charge of her own destiny no matter what was happening around her. She prided herself on being a realist, and she knew better than to indulge herself in fantasies about things that would never happen to her.

There was no handsome knight in shining armor waiting to sweep her off her feet.

Not tonight. Not ever.

Still, she couldn't help trying to picture her parents in this very ball room, trying to picture that chance meeting that had changed the world.

She imagined her father standing where she stood now, watching silently, as she did, the goings on around him while he sipped a glass of celebratory champagne. He'd been handsome and lean, and he'd cut a striking figure in uniform. Tempest knew that much from old photos. There was no question he'd been the best looking boy in the room. It was no wonder her mother had asked him to dance.

And her mother. She'd been slender and leggy, and arguably the prettiest girl there. No doubt, she'd charmed him so much that there had never been the option of turning back. He belonged to her the moment their eyes met across the dance floor.

Or so the story went.

But, maybe it was just a story. Maybe what actually happened was far less romantic than all that.. Maybe the truth had been exaggerated into something that it wasn't, told a certain way to make it seem more touching and more beautiful than it really was.

Or maybe it really _had_ happened that way. She supposed she'd never know.

Tempest accepted another glass of champagne from the waiter that passed by, though she knew she'd already had too much. She was supposed to be celebrating, and was trying to look the part, but her mood was turning sour. Even if her prince was here tonight, the dark expression on her face was enough to scare him away for good.

She was about to leave the ball when a large hand closed over hers and dragged her to the dance floor.

"Quit holding up the wall, Leonhart. You're supposed to be having a good time," Syrus said.

"What are you doing?!" Tempest demanded as she tried to pull away.

"I'm here to celebrate our good fortune and to dance with my girl."

"I'm _not_ your girl."

"You've always been my girl," Syrus said. "Always will be."

"What, are you drunk? I'm not your girl anymore. We broke up, remember?"

"Shut up and dance with me."

His expression was determined. There would be no argument about this, and truthfully, Tempest didn't have the energy to fight with him tonight so she let him pull her out to the middle of the dance floor.

He flashed that brilliant smile of his and Tempest forgot herself for a moment.

Why did her heart have to skip a beat every time she saw him? Why did he have to look at her like that? It made it hard to stay angry with him, even if he deserved her anger. He had earned her silence, after all, but he was making it very difficult to maintain.

"You're supposed to let me lead," he teased.

"I don't want to do this," she said flatly.

Tempest fought his embrace, but his arms stayed wrapped around her like the tentacles of a hungry ochu. She tried to wriggle her way out, but he only pulled her closer.

"Look, will you just give me this one dance? Please?"

Syrus looked defeated as he stared down at her, and there was something in his face that made Tempest stop fighting altogether. She gave a heavy sigh and relented, though she was determined to make the dance as uncomfortable for him as it was for her.

She didn't have to try very hard. The champagne had gone to her head and she felt clumsy and slow as her hand lighted on his shoulder. She let him lead, all the while resisting his attempts to pull her closer. She didn't want to be closer to him. Being close to him might break down her resistance, for whatever he had done, there was still a part of her that longed for his company and his touch, and that was dangerous. She couldn't allow herself to let him back in. She couldn't afford to be hurt again. Not by Syrus, not by anyone.

"You look beautiful tonight," Syrus whispered in her ear.

Tempest responded to his statement by stepping on his toe. On purpose.

Syrus grimaced, but didn't comment. She did it again, but this time, made sure she dug the slender heel of her shoe into his foot. Syrus made a strangled sound and gave her a warning look but kept his mouth shut.

For whatever reason, he was determined to dance with her and willing to put up with any injury she might inflict.

Tempest was annoyed enough with him to test his limits. When Syrus attempted to spin her, she resisted and he fell into her, nearly knocking her to the floor.

"Tempest, what the hell is wrong with you?!"

Tempest steadied herself and silently wished to be anywhere but where she was. This was a confrontation she didn't want to have, especially not here

"Can't you give one dance without trying to make a fool of me?"

Tempest looked up at him for a long moment. Her eyes lingered on the fresh scar between his eyes and thought of all the reasons why she couldn't let herself care anymore.

"Syrus, go find someone else to dance with. I'm not what you're looking for."

Tempest watched his face as he digested her words and what she really meant, and she could tell what she said burned him in the worst of ways.

"What can I say to make it up to you? What can I do?" he asked softly. "I said I'm sorry and I meant it. How long are you going to punish me?"

"I'm not punishing you, Sy," Tempest said gently. "I'm doing what's best for me."

With these words, Tempest turned and fled the dance floor. On her way out, she seized a glass of champagne from a passing waiter and headed for the balcony.

It was suddenly hard to breathe, as if the air in the room around her had grown too thick. If she didn't get out of there, she was going to pass out.

* * *

Julia Leonhart stood in the shadows behind the band, watching with envy as the SeeDs danced, drank and socialized with one another. What she wouldn't give to be one of them. What she wouldn't give to have friends, to laugh and celebrate and have fun like anyone else her age, but it wasn't safe for her to be around a lot of people. Her whole life, Julia had wished to be part of something, to laugh and goof off and have fun without worrying that, if she let her guard down, the worst might happen. Eventually, someone would figure out what she was and that was dangerous.

Julia had spent her whole life under the protection of others. First in Esthar, at the Palace with her Granddad Laguna and his family, and then later with the White SeeD, and now she was here in Balamb, with an entire Garden to protect her. Any other girl might feel special and important to have such a need for protection, but it only succeeded in making Julia feel weak. Had she been allowed to train here, maybe she wouldn't have needed so much protection. Maybe she'd be able to fight for herself and lessen the burden on others. Maybe she and Tempest could be together again.

But that wasn't going to happen. Not any time soon. She knew the reasons why they'd been separated, and she understood them, but it didn't lessen the absence she felt at not having her family near. Cid and Edea did their best, and she loved them for it, but it didn't quite make up for the fact that Julia was essentially alone. She had no friends, no one to talk to but an elderly couple and a pair of White SeeDs, who were not allowed to respond back no matter what she said to them.

With a sigh, she watched the dancing couples and wondered what it would be like to be one of them, to have some good looking boy twirling her around the dance floor, his eyes only on her. No boy had ever looked at her that way. In fact, she didn't know any boys. Being the fabled princess locked in the proverbial tower definitely had disadvantages. One being it severely stunted any chance for social interaction, let alone romantic encounters.

Then, Julia wondered if Tempest was one of those dancing couples. They all looked so happy, and she could easily picture Tempest on the arm of some handsome young man, dancing with grace and having the time of her life. Julia hoped that was the case. She hoped that Tempest hadn't plastered herself against the wall somewhere as Julia knew Tempest was apt to do. Tempest had always been the quiet one, but at least she had friends.

Because of what she was, Julia had missed all the best parts of growing up. Most of all, she missed Tempest. She missed the closeness they'd shared. Knowing that Tempest was here at Garden and that she was safe helped a little, but it didn't make it any easier to bear. Julia was still alone.

She spotted Tempest dancing with a tall young man with sandy blonde hair and Julia wished they could trade places, just for a moment, just so she could know what it felt like to dance with someone. It was obvious the boy adored Tempest, though it appeared Tempest was annoyed with him.

Julia wished it was her out there.

What would it have been like to grow up here, surrounded by kids her age? To learn how to be strong, self reliant and fearless?

Of all the things in the world, why did she have to be a Sorceress? Why did she have these powers and not someone else?

It was the last gift her mother had given her, not by choice but out of necessity. A dying woman with no other option, and now because of it, Julia was more or less on her own, alienated and feared by the rest of the world. There was no hope for any kind of a normal life for Julia and there never would be.

The most depressing part about it was that no one but the Kramers and Laguna's family knew she existed. No one else in the world knew that there had ever been a Julia Leonhart.

Not even Tempest.

* * *

In spite of everything Tempest had said in the last few days, Syrus was not prepared to leave her alone. Even after he'd vowed to give her time, he found he couldn't. She was too important to just walk away from.

But what was it that he planned to do? Follow her out and hope she didn't kill him? Have the same argument they'd had in the training center or on the dance floor? Syrus knew she wouldn't budge on this issue, but he still wanted to be near her. His world wasn't right without her in it and he needed her to understand that.

Syrus hesitated for a moment and then followed her out to the balcony, which was mostly deserted, save a couple making out in the corner. Tempest stood at the railing, her back to him, looking out at the night. He could tell by the set of her shoulders that she was not in a mood to be trifled with. Still, he went forward and leaned into the railing beside her. He half expected her to take off or scream at him, but she stayed silent as she sipped at her glass of champagne.

"Tempest, what's this really about?" Syrus asked softly. "You can't be this pissed at me just because I kissed some girl."

Tempest's expression was murderous.

"It was more than that and you know it."

So that's what it was. Tempest believed that it was more than just a kiss. Stunned, he took a step back and looked down at her angry face.

"Nothing happened," Syrus said evenly. "One kiss. That's it."

"You don't honestly expect me to believe that."

"I expected you to trust me enough to know that I'd never do that to you."

"You kissed her."

"She kissed me," Syrus corrected. "And yeah, just for a second, I liked it, but it was your face I saw in my head. It was you I wanted, not her, so I stopped it before it could go any further because I knew it would hurt you, and I don't want any part of anything that makes you suffer."

Tempest snorted and shook her head.

"Right. Is that supposed to make me feel better?"

"You know damn well you're the only girl I've ever wanted," Syrus said, suddenly angry with her for refusing to listen to him. "There's no one in the world who even compares to you."

Tempest snorted again and downed the rest of her champagne.

"I overheard her," Tempest said. "Bragging in the locker room."

Syrus froze.

Whatever Maya had said, it was most certainly a lie. There had only been that one kiss, and it had been unexpected on Syrus' part. The girl had suddenly thrown her arms around him and planted her mouth on his, as if she'd been dared by a friend or something. It had come out of nowhere, without provocation, and as soon as he realized what was happening, he'd shoved her away. He'd never been fond of Maya, who had a reputation for being promiscuous, manipulative and callous. No one liked her, unless they were trying to get laid.

He'd planned on telling Tempest right after it had happened, but they'd had an argument, their first ever, outside of the Training Center, just hours before the kiss, and she was angry enough with him that she refused to answer the door. It had been a silly fight. He couldn't even remember what it was about, which made things even worse.

Now he knew how she'd found out about it.

"What did she say?" he demanded.

"That she slept with you."

Syrus suspected that Tempest had overheard a lot of details, otherwise, she would never have believed it. Details, combined with her annoyance with him, had given her a reason to believe the lie.

"She must have been talking about someone else," Syrus said. "And you should know better."

A flicker of doubt crossed Tempest's face. Then her expression hardened again.

"Should I? Why would she lie about something like that?"

"Because she'll do and say anything to get attention," Syrus said.

It was the truth. Maya routinely pulled stunts or started fights just so that people wouldn't ignore her. The same went for sleeping with random cadets and the occasional SeeD. She was one of those sad people who went to extremes to keep from feeling insignificant.

"When did I lose your trust, Tempest?" Syrus asked quietly. "I thought you knew me well enough to know that for me, there is only_ you_. Why would I sleep with some random, desperate girl when being with you is so much better?"

"You were angry with me," Tempest accused.

"_You_ were angry with _me_," Syrus corrected. "I was already over it."

Doubt played across Tempest's face again, then it was gone.

"Look, if it makes you feel better, go kiss Dincht or something to get back at me. Sleep him if you think it makes us even, just forgive me, okay?"

Tempest made a face.

"That's your solution? Sleep with Benji so you're off the hook?"

"No, that's not my solution!" Syrus cried in frustration.

He'd pulled Dincht's name out of the air. He hadn't really meant Benji specifically. Actually, the idea of Tempest with someone else, _anyone_ else, bothered him.

"Then what _are_ you saying?" Tempest asked.

"I'm saying...just give me the benefit of the doubt. Trust that I'm telling you the truth," he pleaded. "We both know I have nothing to gain by lying to you."

"I meant about me sleeping with _Benji_."

Syrus sighed, wishing that he'd never mentioned Dincht.

"All I'm trying to say is that if you ever need a get out of jail free card, then you've got it, okay? If something like this were to happen to you, I'd let it go, so long as you came back to me."

"You'd forgive me if I made out with Benji."

It was a statement, not a question. Her tone was strange and Syrus didn't quite know how to classify what he heard in her voice.

"Or someone else, yeah," Syrus said. "I'd hate it so much I might have to kill the guy, but you'd be forgiven."

"Why?"

"Because without you, there is no me."

* * *

Tempest was full of doubts about what she'd believed to be true. It was hard to ignore Syrus' sincerity, and she had to admit to herself that she knew Syrus inside and out. She knew him well enough to spot a lie, and she detected nothing false in his face or his tone. She also knew that Maya was prone to exaggeration to get attention, but what reason would she have for telling such an outrageous story that might lead to confrontation? Maya had learned her lesson about messing with Tempest two years ago, when she'd started a rumor about Tempest being into girls.

So, maybe Syrus was telling the truth.

He was starting to get to her, in spite of everything. She missed him. She missed feeling like he was a part of her. She missed the feel of his arms wrapped around her and the way her head fit perfectly against his his shoulder. She even missed his family because their home was the one place she truly felt she belonged. The Almasy's had always treated her as if she were their own and Cedra was the closest thing to a sister she had. Selphie had even included a class picture of Tempest on the mantle, right next to those of Syrus and Cedra. As if she were family.

_Without you, there is no me._

The same held true for Tempest, though she wouldn't admit it out loud. Without him, she felt hollow and abandoned, but hadn't he done that to her? Wasn't he the reason she felt that way?

What was the truth? Had it been just an unwanted kiss, or was it something far less innocent? Should she give him the benefit of her trust, or cut him off for good?

What would he do if she called his bluff? Hold a grudge? Beat poor Benji to a pulp? Go kiss Maya again to get back at her?

He'd said it because he knew Benji would be the last person on earth she'd dream of making out with, and because Benji was the one person, besides Trepe, who got under Syrus' skin the most. The very idea would make him crazy with jealousy.

A slow smile spread across her face and she pushed away from the rail, determined to find out exactly where the cards lay.

"Tempest, why do you keep running away?" Syrus demanded. "Can't you just talk this out with me?"

Tempest flashed him a smile and headed into the ballroom in search of Benji. Syrus followed, looking bewildered and frustrated.

Benji stood near the buffet table surveying the spread of hot dogs with obvious glee. No surprise there. If there was one thing in the world that meant anything to Benji, it was hot dogs. Tempest was pretty sure that if it came down to the choice between a hotdog and getting laid, Benji would choose the hot dog. She was also fairly certain that if her life were on the line and there happened to be a hot dog stand within a ten mile radius, Benji would still choose hot dogs..

"Oh, Hyne, Tempest," Syrus said in exasperation when he realized what Tempest was up to, "I wasn't serious."

"Too late to take it back," Tempest murmured.

Benji grinned when he saw her and inclined his head toward the table of hot dogs.

"Quite the feast, hunh? They've got every kind! Chili dogs. Cheese dogs. Even slaw dogs!"

A nod was all Tempest could manage. She had no interest in the hotdogs. Her mind was on the challenge she'd been given. Poor, unsuspecting Benji had no idea what was about to hit him.

Could she really go through with this? Benji truly was the last person she could imagine locking lips with. The thought was repulsive, not because there was anything wrong with him, but because he was _Benji_. It would be like kissing her brother or something.

And why, exactly, was she so determined to do this? Why did it matter? Why did she feel the need to test Syrus this way? To get back at him? To hurt him? To find out how he'd react? Tempest wasn't sure of her own motivations, but she was compelled to act anyway. At the very least, Syrus would know how it felt. That had to be worth something, and the best part about it was that he'd provided her with the one target that would bug him the most.

Except for Trepe, that was. Had Syrus said Quenton's name, there was no way she would have taken it this far. While it would have driven Syrus insane, it would open up a whole new realm of obsession on Quenton's part, and Tempest wasn't prepared to deal with the fallout from that endeavor.

She sent one last glance at Syrus, her eyebrow raised in challenge. She half wanted him to intervene and stop her before it was too late, but he just stood there looking helpless and frustrated.

"Tempest, don't do this," he pleaded.

"Do what?" Benji asked.

Tempest stepped forward and kissed Benji, right on the lips, just as he made a grab for the nearest hot dog. His hand froze over the table, along with the rest of him, lips included.

Then, he kissed her back, with surprising skill. For an instant, she even forgot it was Benji she was kissing. Even so, it was Syrus' face she saw in her head. She thought of the first time Syrus had kissed her, about how afraid she'd been and about how much she'd liked it in the end.

She broke away and flashed Benji an apologetic look.

"Not bad," Tempest said. "You're going to make some girl very happy one of these days."

Benji stared back at her, his eyes wide and confused.

"Tempest, uh, what? I mean....why did....oh, Hyne," Benji stammered at her, his eyes flicking back and forth between her and Syrus. "Um, I gotta...you know, um...."

"Get lost, Chicken Wuss."

Benji didn't have to be told twice. He seized a hot dog in each hand and was gone in an instant, but not without taking one last confused glance back at Tempest. No doubt, things would be awkward from now on.

Tempest turned back toward Syrus and saw that he was struggling not to lose it. His fists were clenched and his eyes were pained and full of anger. It had hurt him to see her kiss someone else., and for an instant, Tempest felt like a jerk. Then she remembered why all this was happening in the first place. He didn't deserve her guilt.

"Why did you do that?" he growled.

"It was your idea."

"I didn't mean for you to take it so literally!"

"Then you shouldn't have said it."

Syrus growled in frustration.

"You have only yourself to blame," Tempest reminded him.

Syrus suddenly burst into laughter and pulled her into a rough embrace, his arms encircling her to pull her close. For an instant, Tempest felt nothing but relief, then the remembered she was still angry with him.

"You're too much, Leonhart," he guffawed. "Only you would take me seriously."

"Glad I amuse you," Tempest said dryly as she extracted herself from his arms. She felt silly. Laughter was not the reaction she'd expected from him.

"Do you forgive me now?"

Tempest heaved a sigh. "You're forgiven."

Syrus' face lit up and he moved to embrace her again. Tempest held out her hand to stop him.

"I didn't say we were getting back together, did I?"

Syrus' face fell, but there was still a little hope left in his eyes. In spite of herself, Tempest found that little glimmer endearing. She wanted to stay angry with him. It was easier that way, but she had to admit, she saw in his face all the reasons she'd fallen for him in the first place.

"Friends, then?" Syrus asked. "Can you at least give me that?"

Tempest nodded.

"Friends," she agreed, but not without reservations.

His answering smile was hard to resist. It made her want to believe he'd told her the truth about what had happened with Maya. But, she reminded herself, it was better to be wary than to be a fool and end up blindisded and hurt by betrayal again. She couldn't handle losing him a second time.

* * *

A/N:

Don't forget to review!


	8. Lost Memories

**CHAPTER SIX**  
_Lost Memories_

* * *

_"...only the foolish and the insane are fearless, and there's  
a fine line between bravery and insanity. To be fearless  
going into a battle is to believe in and care about nothing."  
_~Squall Leonhart, To Hell and Back: Reflections on Time Compression

* * *

Quenton stumbled into the backstage area, bottle of champagne in hand, wishing he was anywhere else but here. He took a seat on the nearest crate and put his head in his hands. He was drunk and depressed; two things the young instructor never allowed himself to be. He couldn't help himself now, though. Every hope he'd had died with the sight of Tempest dancing with Syrus. He'd been a split second away from asking her himself when Syrus had swooped in and stolen her away. Rather than beat Syrus within an inch of his own life, Tempest had gone along with it while Quenton was forced to watch the girl of his dreams dance with another guy. Which had lead Quenton to swipe the bottle of champagne from behind the bar while the bartender wasn't looking. Now, he was drinking away his sorrows and licking his wounds while he tried in vain to tune out the band on the other side of the curtain.

He'd hoped against hope that Syrus and Tempest were done, that their relationship was over and he might finally have a shot with her, but he'd been so very wrong. He'd never known what it was about Syrus Almasy that made Tempest chose him over all the other guys at Garden. She could have been with anyone she wanted, yet she'd chose Almasy. There was nothing about the guy that made him anything special, save the fact that his father was a monster. No matter how many times he saw them together, or how many explanations their friends gave them, he would never understand why the two of them were together.

"Are you all right?"

Quenton looked up in surprise at the girl standing before him. Concerned lined her face, her head tilted ever so slightly to the left. She was exactly what he wanted, but also the last person he expected to be here.

It was a dream come true. Tempest had finally decided to come to him. It seemed impossible, but here she was, and it had to be the best thing that had ever happened to him.

"I love you," he blurted out. "I love you so much, it hurts."

Tempest's eyes widened and her face turned bright red. Her hand came up to cover her smile of surprised pleasure, then drifted down to a chain she wore around her neck, twising it with her delicate fingers.

"I mean it. There's no one else for me but you," he said.

Then, he sighed and took a long swig of champagne from the bottle. He'd said too much, hadn't he? He hadn't meant to blurt it out like that. He'd meant to be suave. He'd meant to work up to it. Maybe ask her out on a date first, wine and dine her, buy her flowers...

"So now you know the truth, and I guess you probably hate me for it."

Tempest stood there, shocked into silence. A slow smile spread across her face, as if she was pleased to hear him finally admit it. As if she'd been waiting for it. Quenton's heart began to pound in expectation and joy. It was a dream come true because he could tell she felt the same way. It was there in her lovely blue eyes and in her sweet smile.

"Tempest," he whispered. "Tell me you feel it too. That we're meant for each other."

Her face fell and a look of bitterness replaced the wonder in her eyes. When she looked away from him, it was though she'd ripped a hole right through his heart.

"I'm sorry," Tempest said, "But...I'm not Tempest. I kind of wish I was, though. To have two boys in love with me...well, I wouldn't know anything about that."

Quenton looked up at Tempest, confused about what she was saying. She wasn't making any sense. Not Tempest? Was she kidding? How drunk did she think he was? He chuckled and took another drink, wincing as the bubbles stung his sinuses.

"You know, all you have to do is tell me the truth," Quenton said. "You don't have to lie to me. I might be drunk, but I'm not drunk enough to fall for that."

"I don't know who you are, but I promise you, I'm not who you think I am."

That sentence confused Quenton. He couldn't figure out what she was saying. Maybe it was the alcohol. Maybe she was the one not making sense. He wasn't sure of anything anymore, but he was disappointed by the way she was trying to put him off.

"It's sweet, though," she said softly. "I wish someone would say that to me."

"I am. Saying it. To you," Quenton said slowly. The words sounded slurred, even to his own ears.

Hyne, he was drunk. It didn't change the way he felt. He loved her and always had. He would love her till the end of time. Didn't she know that? Couldn't she see it written all over his face?

Tempest shook her head and turned so that her face was in profile. He saw tears form in her eyes and she wiped them away with the back of her hand, trying hard not to sniffle. Tempest crying? Quenton had never seen that happen before. Was she overcome with emotion because of his confession of love? Was there some hope after all?

Quenton got up and stumbled over to her, still clutching the bottle of champagne. He put a hand against her cheek and tenderly wiped away a tear with his thumb. Emotion made her eyes stormy and her lower lip trembled as she looked back at him, fearful but expectant. He wanted her so badly, and he could see that she wanted him too. If he'd known how his words would affect her, he would have said something sooner. He would have made his move a long time ago, and she'd already be his.

"I love you," he whispered.

"You don't," Tempest insisted.

She wouldn't believe him, so he showed her. Impulsively, he bent down and pressed his lips against hers. Tempest let out a soft cry of surprise and stood there motionless as he tried to kiss her deeper. Then, she responded. It was a cautious response, but a response nonetheless. Quenton felt as if his heart were about to explode. He pulled her closer, wanting all of her, all at once, wrapping his arms tightly around her slender waist. He heard her cry out and interpreted it as desire.

Hyne, she wanted this too. It was beyond his wildest dreams to have her in his arms like this. This moment would live on in his memory as the best of his life.

What happened next was confusing. Something ripped them apart and he felt himself restrained and pulled back by powerful arms.

"What the-" he growled and tried to fight off whomever had pulled him away from her.

Syrus, he guessed. Quenton began to struggle with his captor, but the arms remained around him like a vice, pinning his arms to his sides and rendering him largely immobile.

"She's mine now," Quenton growled. "She wants me, not you, so leave us alone!"

"Calm the fuck down," a gravely voice said in his ear, "Or, I'll put your lights out."

Not Syrus. Someone else. But who?

Quenton stopped struggling then. The alcohol had sapped what strength he had, and suddenly, he just wanted to lay down on the floor and go to sleep. The room was spinning. He felt like he was going to be sick.

Across the room, he saw Edea with Tempest and a uniformed guard. The guard's machine gun was trained on Quenton.

Quenton felt as if he'd done something terribly wrong, but he wasn't sure what. All he'd really done was confess his love to the object of his affection. What was so bad about that? Didn't they understand how it felt?

"I'm fine," Tempest said to Edea, who looked terribly concerned. "Really. It was just unexpected. He didn't hurt me."

"Let's go," his captor growled.

"I'm not leaving her."

"You don't have a choice, buddy."

"Tempest!"

Quenton pleaded with her as he was dragged from the room. She looked at him just before the door closed and in her eyes, he saw a bitter kind of grief that didn't make any sense. He didn't understand why he was being taken away or what that look might mean. None of this made any sense at all. Since when was kissing a girl a crime? Was it because he was an instructor? Tempest was no longer his student, so it shouldn't matter anymore. There was no rule banning relationships between SeeDs.

As he was dragged up to the third floor, whatever buzz he'd had wore off at the prospect of being in trouble over this. He didn't feel dizzy anymore, he was just very tired, and very confused. He'd kept replaying the details of the kiss in his head, hoping that some day soon, he'd get to do it again. It had been amazing. She was amazing.

In his mother's office, he was pushed into a chair and ordered to stay there. Within minutes, his mother, Cid and Edea filed into the room, stone faced and apparently angry about what he'd done. He felt like a criminal sitting there with all of them looking at him like he'd killed their favorite moomba or something. .

"Quenton, what you did was inexcusable," Cid began. "Getting shit faced drunk is one thing. Assaulting a young woman while drunk is a whole different chocobo."

"What? Assault?"

"You scared that girl half to death!" his mother said. "I thought I taught you better than that."

"I don't understand," Quenton said. "I didn't assault anyone!"

"You're telling us that you didn't grab and try to kiss that girl against her will?" his mother asked, her tone flat.

"I kissed her," Quenton admitted, "but she kissed me back."

"Is that what you think happened?" Quistis cried. "Quenton, do you realize what you've done?"

"She did! I swear!"

"This kind of behavior is not at all acceptable," Cid said. "Frankly, I'm disappointed. You are the last person I would expect to pull something like this."

"Is Tempest saying I did something to her?" Quenton asked. "Becuse it was mutual. She kissed me back, I swear."

"Quenton, that wasn't Tempest," Cid said. "Maybe you thought it was Tempest, but the girl you attacked wasn't her. I assure you."

"I didn't attack her! And, it was Tempest. I know her face as well as I know my own."

They all looked at him as if he was crazy. Still, he did recall the girl telling him she _wasn't_Tempest. Was it possible he'd believed it was her, only because he wanted to? Was it possible that in his drunken state, he'd mistaken her for Tempest? He was very, very certain he hadn't, but the memory now had a surreal quality to it. The only think he remembered with any clarity was the of her lips against his. That one was crystal clear.

Quistis sighed and shook her head. There would be hell to pay, that much Quenton was certain of. His mother was not one to handle misbehavior or insubordination well. No doubt, she was going to let him have it later.

"The young lady you assaulted is a cadet who sneaked out of her dorm to watch the ball," Edea said. "She's shaken up, but she's not going to press any charges."

Cid held out a photograph for him to take. It was of a girl about Tempest's age with similar features, but it most certainly wasn't her. This girl had dark eyes and the shape of her face was all wrong. It only reinforced the belief that he'd been with Tempest and not a cadet trying to spy on the party.

"Quenton, I'm sorry I have to do this," Cid said, "but I'm afraid we must revoke your instructor's license. We can not take the risk of another incident like this."

"What?"

"You are no longer an Instructor," Quistis told him. Her voice was steel, her eyes were cold, and Quenton knew he'd broken his mother's heart.

Worse than that, his own heart was broken. Not only had he imagined Tempest into the body of someone else, the fantasy had cost him his career, and he knew he had no one to blame but himself.

* * *

Cid lay down and tried to sleep after the ordeal with Quenton and Julia but found sleep wouldn't come. He'd dodged a bullet there, for sure. Julia knew better than to sneak away from her rooms, but she had anyway. He'd thought she understood the importance of keeping a low profile, but curiosity had gotten the best of her. Cid supposed he could understand it. The girl was lonely. All she'd really wanted to do was watch the party for a while, so that she might not feel so isolated.

It was Quenton's actions that bothered him. He'd been drunk enough not to realize that he'd made Julia uncomfortable. Perhaps it hadn't gotten to the point where Julia might have had to fight him off, but it seemed to have upset her. She'd cried for more than an hour, and when she'd calmed down, she'd been bitter and silent. Maybe because Quenton had thought she was Tempest. That had to hurt. To be mistaken for Tempest must have been like rubbing alcohol on an open wound. Julia had spent a good deal of her life in seclusion and there had never been an opportunity for her to make the kind of friends Tempest had, nor had there been any chance for romance. Cid felt bad about that, but there hadn't been any other option. Keeping Julia out of Galbadia's hands had always been more important, and having her train at Garden was out of the question. Training Tempest was bad enough, but Julia was ill suited for the life of a SeeD. She was too gentle, too sympathetic and too soft to have lasted long.

Quenton's obsession with Tempest was problem. He'd heard that Quenton had pestered her for a while, but Cid hadn't realized the extent of the instructor's infatuation. It made Cid realize that Quenton was not cut out to be an instructor. Not yet, anyway.

The only good thing to come out of the situation was that Cid had been able to convince Quenton that the girl was only someone whom he thought was Tempest. Quistis, too had bought the story, since she knew that if it truly had been Tempest he'd acosted, she would have gleefully beaten him to a pulp and hung him by his entrails above the first floor elevator. Tempest wouldn't have allowed things to go that far without consequences. So, the secret of Julia was safe for now. She remained known only to the Kramers, Dr. Kadowaki and a handful of White SeeDs. If Cid had his way, that's how it would remain.

Cid had finally dozed off when the phone rang in his study. He glanced at the clock on the nightstand, noting that it was only a little past 5 AM. He lay there for a moment, hoping that the caller would realize the early hour and hang up, but it continued to ring. With a heavy sigh, he sat up and threw back the covers and got to his feet with caution. At his age, getting up too quickly could be dangerous. Both of his knees were bad. His back was bad. Not to mention his blood pressure.

Cid was getting too old for this.

Carefully, he put on his glasses and stumbled his way into the study. By the time he reached it, the phone had stopped ringing.

With a sigh, he turned back toward the bedroom. Immediately, the phone began to ring again. He snatched up the handset, irritated by the early hour and by the caller's apparent persistence.

"What is it?" Cid barked into the phone.

"I need to speak with Cid Kramer. Immediately."

"You've got him."

"Sorry to call so early, Cid. It's Kiros Seagill. We have a problem."

Cid had been in this business long enough to know that when Kiros Seagill called, it was bad news. Good news always came from Laguna himself.

"Of course," Cid said. "What kind of trouble is Laguna in now?"

"It's not Laguna this time," Kiros said. "It's his daughter. Jade."

Cid's chest tightened at the mention of Jade. Long ago, Cid had offered to bring Jade Loire to Garden in order to protect her and her gifts from others who might want to exploit them, but Laguna had insisted she stay at the Palace in Esthar so that she might grow up like a normal child. Cid had thought Laguna a fool for risking it in the beginning, but to his surprise, Jade had not been hunted the way her mother Ellone had. Of course, in Jade's time, there had been no reason to hunt for Sorceress candidates. Not to mention, Laguna had taken great pains to keep Jade's abilities under wraps.

Maybe until now, that was.

"Jade?" Cid asked. "Tell me the situation and I'll see what we can do for you."

"She went missing after class last night. We don't know anything else, but we suspect kidnapping."

"Galbadia?"

"It's a strong possibility, but no one has taken responsibility yet. We're not ruling out the Cult of Hyne either."

Cid closed his eyes and let out a sigh of frustration. Things were happening much faster than he'd anticipated, and in ways that he had not expected. What in the world could Galbadia, or whomever was responsible, have up their sleeve? If the child Opheilia was indeed a Sorceress, then there was a possibility that someone was trying to recreate Time Compression or something equally nefarious. All they would need to recreate the last Sorceress war was someone like Jade.

"What do you need from us? I'll try my best to send appropriate resources."

"For now, a small team of SeeDs would be enough, maybe a reserve team waiting in the wings in case the shit hits proverbial the fan," Kiros said. "Laguna wishes to keep this quiet for the time being."

Cid didn't need to ask what he meant. Announcing the kidnapping of the President's daughter would create a panic in Esthar. They knew too well the history associated with Sorceresses, and the city had been the site of several incidents involving one.

"Of course. I'll send a party out on the first train tomorrow."

Kiros hesitated before speaking.

"I have a special request, Cid," Kiros said slowly. "Per Laguna, of course."

"What is it?"

"Laguna wants Tempest," Kiros said. "He believes that she may be the key to all of this."

"Tempest may be what they're really after."

"Agreed," Kiros said. "However, Ellone and Laguna both agree that it's time to tell Tempest the truth. Better this way than to let her find out some other way, don't you think?"

Cid sighed. If he had his way, Tempest would never know the truth. It had taken a long time to make her forget the awful things in her past, and he feared that telling her might cause her to unravel. Granted, Tempest Leonhart was a tough young woman, and she had already lived through some very tough times, but what she didn't know might prove very dangerous. For everyone.

"Do you know what this could do to her?"

"I remember all too well," Kiros said gravely. "But Laguna is seldom wrong, in spite of his idiotic ways."

That was the truth. Laguna Loire was, in his own strange and clumsy way, a genius. It wasn't just luck that had gotten him elected President of Esthar. Certainly, luck had something to do with it, but the truth was, behind the bumbling semi-incoherant speech and unassuming looks was a political mastermind and brilliant military strategist. Cid had always believed that Laguna Loire could have taken over the world if he'd ever had the inkling. Fortunately, for the world, Laguna was at heart, a pacifist.

"Are you certain that there is no one else I might send in her place?"

"I'm certain," Kiros said. "This involves her as much as it involves Jade."

"I don't want to be the one to break the news," Cid said. "I don't think that's fair to her. She already thinks Laguna has abandoned her. If I tell her, that will only reinforce that belief."

"You can leave that part of it up to us. She deserves to hear the truth from her family."

Cid felt, in his bones, that this was the start of difficult days to come, and it all hinged on this long over due family reunion. He had no way to predict how Tempest might react to learning the long buried truths about herself and her family. It could give her back some of the pieces missing from her life, or it could destroy her.

"I wish there was more time to prepare her. I don't think she's going to take it well," Cid said.

"We know the risk, and we'll do the best we can," Kiros said.

"If you don't, the whole world will be at her mercy."

* * *

Tempest hadn't expected a mission quite so soon, and certainly not one that reunited her with her estranged family. Cid had told her little about what was going on and the details remained top secret. All Cid had told them was that Laguna had requested SeeD assistance and that they would be going to Esthar on the next train out of Balamb. Tempest was both nervous and excited about the mission. Excited to have a purpose, but anxious about seeing her Grandfather again.

It had been years since she'd last seen her family. The strange thing was, she couldn't quite pin down the last time she'd seen them. Had she gone to Esthar, or had they come to her? She couldn't recall. She had memories of them, of their faces, their voices, of laughter and of sad looks and pity. She remembered fear and panic, the sound of her own heartbeat in her ears as she searched for a way to escape.

Escape? From what? Her family?

That's couldn't be right. Laguna and Ellone Loire were about as fearsome as a pair of baby chocobos from what she could recall. Jade and Obsidian, too, had been fairly non-threatning. They'd been typical kids. Loud and boisterous and full of kid energy. Though they might have gotten on her nerves, there would have been no reason to escape the palace.

But the thought persisted. Tempest couldn't shake it. A need to run. To find -

Find what?

Tempest shook it off and thought about the twins, who both looked like Laguna. Jade had thought herself a princess. She'd been spoiled and pampered and eyed Tempest with disdain whenever they were in the same room together. Jade had never been mean, from what Tempest could recall, but she'd never been friendly, either. Tempest was not included in tea parties with Jade's army of stuffed animals and dolls, or games of dress-up, or any of the other princessy things that Jade did. Not that it had mattered. Tempest hadn't minded being excluded.

Obsidian, on the other hand had tried hard to befriend Tempest. He'd tried to coax her into playing board games, into helping him build his train set or playing with toy blades in the courtyard, but Tempest could only recall being afraid of him.

When had they visited? How long ago was it, really? Her memories were all muddled and she wasn't sure of anything anymore. Maybe she didn't remember her family at all. Maybe she only remembered the photographs that Edea had shown her as a child. Maybe everything else had been her imagination or based on stories that Edea had told over the years. Maybe she didn't truly remember Jade's snubs or Obsidian's pestering.

Tempest didn't even know how to feel about seeing them. They'd been absent from her life almost as long as her dead parents. They were strangers, and maybe they always had been.

Cedra's voice broke into Tempest's reverie.

"I wonder that this is all about," Cedra said. "I mean, why the secrecy?"

"Must be something big," Benji said.

"Did Cid tell you anything?" Cedra asked. "Anything at all?"

"Nope," Tempest said. "All I know is that my Aunt Jade is missing and we're supposed to meet with President Loire as soon as we get to the city. We get the details of the case when we get there."

"You think Esthar's as cool as they say it is?" Benji asked.

Tempest's memory conjured up the Esthar's skyline, strange and surreal and completely foreign. She wondered if that meant, at some point, she had visited the city, and she felt certain that she had. She just couldn't remember when.

"It's probably even cooler than they say," Cedra said.

Cedra and Benji chatted back and forth about the relative coolness of Esthar, while Tempest tuned them out and tried to fight back the waves of panic and anticipation building inside her. She wondered, would they be glad to see her, or too concerned about Jade's welfare to bother? Would they even recognize her? And why had Cid sent her on a mission that was so personal? That part didn't make any sense. SeeDs were never supposed to take it personal. and this was as personal as it got. They may have been her estranged family, but they were still her family.

A SeeD wasn't supposed to question orders, but Tempest couldn't help it. She had a lot of questions for Laguna, questions she'd wanted answered for years, but she knew she wouldn't be able to ask them while on a mission to find her missing aunt.

Tempest rubbed her eyes and tried to ignore the headache that was coming on. She was thinking too much. She was anxious and tired and she hadn't slept well the night before.

She checked her watch and decided that she had enough time to get in a nap before they reached Esthar. She was glad the train now ran all the way from Balamb to Esthar and that they wouldn't have to change trains along the way. In her parent's time, there was no train service to Esthar. They'd had to walk from FH, which had to take a full day at least. Maybe longer if there were a lot of monsters to fight off.

"I'm going to take a nap," she told her team. "Don't wake me up unless it's important."

"You okay?" Cedra asked, looking concerned. "You don't look so hot."

"Didn't sleep well," she said.

"We'll wake you when you get there," Cedra assured her.

"Thanks," Tempest said.

She crawled onto one of the bunks on the far side of the car, lay down and pulled the curtain. She could hear Benji and Cedra whispering, but it didn't matter. The instant she closed her eyes, Tempest fell asleep.

* * *

_What the hell? Where am I?_

"Sit very still, Julia. This will only hurt for a moment."

A man in a lab coat advanced, holding a syringe filled with a blue colored liquid. The girl struggled against the thick metal bracelets that secured her arms to the chair. There was no escape, but she had to try anyway. One of these days, she was getting out of here. One day, she'd be free.

_Ellone? Are you doing this? _

Tempest could not see the girl's face, but she could sense the girl's terror as she watched though the girl's eyes. The needle plunged into her arm and Tempest could feel the sharp, biting sting. It brought back her own mindless fear of needles. Tempest had never liked needles and became panicked and irrational at the sight of one. She'd been terrified of them since she was a child and this dream needle had nearly the same effect on her as the real thing. She wanted to thrash about and fight it, but those dream restraints kept her immobile.

A droplet of blood beaded around the shaft as it went deeper and the girl cried out in pain. Whatever the doctor was injecting burned as it entered her bloodstream. It occurred to Tempest that the doctor was not being kind about it, either. Maybe it was the careless way he'd jammed the needle into her arm, or maybe it was the cruel way he smiled at the girl's pain.

"That's a good girl," the doctor said. "I'm sorry I have to do this, but it's the only way we can keep you from attacking my medics. You haven't been very nice to them, you know."

The girl didn't respond, but Tempest could feel her hatred for this man a the fluid burned through her veins.

"That meteor spell you cast yesterday injured five of my employees," the doctor scolded. "You should know better."

_It's you that should know better_, doctor, the girl thought. _One of these days, I'll make you pay for this, I swear. Even if it kills me. _

"This research is vital, Julia. You're here to help us, not hurt us, and you can't interfere with what I'm trying to do," the doctor said as he produced a second needle. "It's for your own good, sweetie. Now, just a little blood and you can return to your dolls."

Elle, please stop this. I don't want to see this.

Tempest looked down at the body she temporarily possessed so that she wouldn't have to see the needle. Judging by the way the girl was dressed, she couldn't be older than ten, but no younger than seven or eight. For a moment, Tempest wondered if this was the same girl who had possessed her during the exam, but then decided that it wasn't. She didn't know how, but this girl felt different somehow. Angrier. Stronger. This girl knew hatred. She wasn't all that terrified, either, as Ophelia had been. This Julia was more furious than afraid.

Tempest felt the sting of the needle and Julia's silent loathing of the doctor. Tempest knew the man had been cruel to her, and that Julia was only waiting for the opportunity to seek revenge and break free. Tempest hoped so. Whatever was happening, _whenever_this had happened, Tempest knew the girl was being held against her will, as evidenced by the Odine bracelets.

It occurred to Tempest that Julia was no ordinary child. She had to possess special abilities for the doctor to fear her enough to protect his staff from her. Was she gifted like Ellone or was she something more powerful? A child Sorceress, perhaps?

What a frightening thought, a child sorceress. A child with such powers could be more dangerous than an adult, given that children have poor impulse control and tended to be demanding and selfish. Tempest imagined a child Sorceress in the throes of a tantrum would be a force to be reckoned with and completely unlike any other in history.

The doctor looked into Julia's eyes and said, "I'm going to unfasten your restraints, but you have to promise me you'll behave like a good little girl. Do you promise?"

Julia nodded.

"Say it."

"I promise, Dr. Deling."

"Good girl," Deling said. He unfastened the Odine bracelets. "Now, hold out your hands for me."

Julia did as told and Deling fastened a new bracelet on each wrist. In the artificial light, they gleamed like the finest silver. Momentarily, Julia was enchanted by the runes engraved in the metal and the coolness of them against her small wrists.

"Let's go back to your rooms now. There's a surprise waiting for you, since you've behaved so nicely. I think you'll like it."

The rooms Deling led the girl to were plain and sterile. The walls were cinderblock painted an institutional white and there were no windows. The air inside carried with it a faint, musty smell, like mildew and dirt. It was sparsely furnished with a small desk with paper and crayons, a plastic bin containing a handful of battered toys and a small mattress on the floor. There were no posters or pictures, no books or magazines.

Upon the mattress was a gaily wrapped package tied in a pink bow. Julia stared at it..

"Go ahead, sweetie. Open it up," the doctor urged.

Julia picked it up and unwrapped it, taking care not to tear the paper. She wanted to save it, to make something out of it. They didn't let her have scissors but she had a little glue. Maybe, she'd glue it to the wall or use it as part of an art project.

Inside the package was a small jewelry box with a glossy white finish and a portrait of a fairy tale Sorceress on the lid. It was heavy and made of wood. Julia fingered the lid without smiling and then slowly opened the box to reveal a gold ring with a highly polished stone of dark green set daintily in gold filigree. It sparkled in the fluorescent light.

A familiar tune began to play as a tiny Sorceress inside the box began to spin like a ballerina. Tempest knew the tune. It was her grandmother's song. Edea had told her that story as well, about how Julia Heartilly had written the song for Laguna but had never seen him again.

Was there some connection here? Was this Julia her own Grandmother?

No. It couldn't be. The song wouldn't have been written yet.

Julia had become a common name in the years since her grandmother's time. There were many, many little girls in the world named for the famous singer. It meant nothing that this girl shared the name.

Julia's eyes lingered on the ring for a moment, and then returned to the dancing Sorceress. However, it was neither of these things that caught Julia's attention. It was the small mirror on the inside of the lid. Tempest was caught off guard by what she saw there. The haunted eyes that peered back at her were so striking that she felt as if she couldn't breathe.

Striking because they were her eyes, and the face that hovered in the mirror was hers as she'd been as a child. If she didn't know better, she would have thought that the girl staring back at her was herself.

Tempest examined the face closely. There was the small mole on her left cheek, and the tiny white scar on her chin, from when she'd tripped and hit the corner of a coffee table as a toddler.

What was this?

Panic started to swell up inside Tempest. Was this a memory?

She had no such memory of being held captive, and she certainly was no Sorceress. Magic was her weakest ability and she rarely used it, so what was this? Who was Julia and why did she look exactly like Tempest had as a child?

In the mirror, Julia's eyes teared up but she held back the sob that built up inside of her. She was angry and confused and she so badly wanted to run but there was no chance of it. Not ever. Not while Deling was alive. She didn't want the gift he'd given her and she didn't understand why he'd bothered. He saw her as a research project, not a human being. A gift from him meant nothing to her, not even something as extravagant as this.

"Thank you, Dr. Deling," Julia whispered as she continued to stare into the mirror, into her own eyes.

Tempest suddenly knew that Julia was looking at her. Julia knew that she was there.

_Elle, tell me what all this means. I don't understand_.

The voice that answered was not Ellone's, it was her own.  
_  
Don't worry, Tempest. You'll understand soon._

* * *

When Tempest opened her eyes, she could hear Benji and Cedra still whispering. Tempest checked her watch and saw that she'd been asleep for more than three hours.

What in Hyne's name could they still be talking about?

She sat up in the berth and pulled her knees into her chest, not quite ready to face her team yet. She thought about the dream, trying to piece together what it might mean. While it felt like a memory, maybe it was just a weird nightmare and nothing more. The last few days had been stressful and hectic and she hadn't slept well. Then, there was the guilt of not being able to save Ophelia from the Galbadians. Besides all that, now that Tempest was awake, she remembered being at Garden when she was that age. Granted, her memories were fuzzy, thanks to the GF's, but she'd already started gunblade training by then. At least, she was pretty sure she had.

Funny, she couldn't remember what age she'd been when she'd first come to Garden. Eight? Ten? She couldn't say with any certainty.

Strange. What else had she forgotten?

Just a weird dream born from guilt and stress. That had to be it. Nothing else made sense.

She brushed it off and climbed out of the berth. They'd be arriving in Esthar in less than half an hour and she wanted to be ready to go as soon as the train pulled into the station.

In the bathroom, she splashed cold water on her face, pulled her tangled hair back into a pony tail and brushed her teeth. For a moment, she stared at herself in the mirror. Her eyes went to the mole on her cheek, then to the scar on her chin. Then, she reminded herself that it was just a dream. Nothing more.

Back in the cabin, Cedra and Benji were arguing about the different regional rules of Triple Triad. Tempest immediately tuned them out and opened her pack. She took out a map of the city and her cell phone. She checked the battery on the phone, then pocketed it. Then, she spread the map out on the small table and examined it, planning their route to the Palace before hand.

"I'm telling you, in Esthar, if you lose, you lose the entire hand. Winner takes all the cards on the table," Benji insisted.

"Whatever. That's just a rumor. It's not like you know for sure."

"Jemma Wilco went to Esthar on a mission last month," Benji said, "and she said she lost her entire deck that way."

"That's because she's not very good and doesn't know when to quit," Cedra said.

"Will you two shut up?" Tempest asked without looking up at them.

"Sorry," Cedra said. "Um, I guess we should get our stuff ready, huh?"

"Pronto," Tempest said. "We'll be arriving in twenty minutes."

Benji raised one of the shades and leaned toward the window. He let out a whoop of excitement.

"Look! You can see the city!"

Even Tempest was distracted by the approaching skyline, which meant they'd already crossed through the border veil that hid the city from sight on the salt flat side. It was just as she thought she remembered. Ultra hightech and surreal and nothing at all like any other city she'd ever seen.

This was her Grandfather's home. The place where Tempest should have called home, too.

* * *

Notes: I'm back, thank you PEER PRESSURE. :)


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